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CHARACTERISTICS.  Essays  on  Coleridge,  Mrs.  Siddons, 
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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
Boston  and  New  York. 


Sub-Ccelum 


A  SKY-BUILT    HUMAN  WORLD 


BY 


A.  P.  RUSSELL 

AUTHOR   OF   "  A   CLUB  OF  ONB,"    "  LIBRARY    NOTES,"    "  CHARACTERISTICS  ' 
"  IN    A   CLUB   CORNER,"    ETC. 


Servant.     Where  dwellest  thou  ? 
Coriolanits.     Under  the  canopy. 

Coriolantis,  Act  IV.  Sc.  V. 


BOSTON    AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AXD    COMPANY 

(STfce  Rfocrsidc  press,  Cambridge 

1893 


Copyright,  1893, 
By  ADDISON  P.  RUSSELL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


\7k  /O 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Favorably  Situated g 

Abundance  of  Leisure to 

Marked  Individuality /  / 

Exceptional  Monsters // 

Conceit  of  Superior  Excellence 12 

Couples  0/  Six 12 

Schools  generally  Small /_? 

Instruction  in  Radical  Morals 14 

Chairs  of  Common  Sense 15 

The  Average  Wisdom 16 

Instructed  in  Telling  the  Truth 77 

A  Sober  Experience 18 

Low,  Unmeaning  Language 18 

Conversation  Cultivated 19 

Specialties  of  Every  Sort 20 

Ingenuousness  a  Social  Excellence 20 

Behavior 21 

A  Habit  of  Charitable  Judgment 23 

A  Favorite  Illustration 24 

Their  Superior  Men  and  Women 25 

Perpetual  Surprises 26 

Their  Social  Meetings 26 


4  Contents 

Their  Floral  Exhibitions 28 

Floating  Radiances ^o 

Each  Daj^s  Dinner 30 

Cooking  a  Proud  Art 33 

Morals  and  Stomach 34 

Bread-Making ^5 

The  Papaw ^5 

Their  Good  Physicians 36 

The  Quack  Doctor  in  Contrast 38 

The  Clergy  of  Sub-Ccelum 40 

The  Golden  Rule 41 

Clergymen  of  a  Certain  Character  Extinct      .     .  43 

Tlie  Lawyer's  Office 4-] 

A  Turn  was  Made,  but  Slowly 48 

Effects  of  the  Change 50 

Arbitration 52 

Advice  Offices 5^ 

Laws  Few  in  Sub-Ccelum 54 

Special  Reformers  not  in  Favor 56 

Effect  of  the  Pervading  Individuality 58 

Their  Police  System 59 

Fatality  of  Heredity .  60 

Estates  Limited 62 

Property  in  Friends 64 

Idleness  Disreputable 65 

Indolence 6j 

Trifling  for  Selfish  Ends 68 

Ambrosia  for  the  Soul 70 

Making  and  Earning  Money »     .     .  jo 


Contents  5 

Manhood  and  Personal  Freedom 7/ 

Native  Manhood 72 

Ideal  Manhood 7^ 

The  Plebeian  and  the  Aristocrat 74 

The  Vices j6 

Common  Sense  and  Practical  Wisdom  .     ...  79 

Small  Farms  Preferred 80 

Fish-Ponds 81 

Bee-Culture 82 

Propagation  of  Poultry 84 

The  Bird  of  Excellence 84 

The  Sub-Caium  Oyster   .               85 

Grapes  and  Wine 87 

Wine-Making 88 

Endless  Orchards po 

Highways  Ideal 92 

How  Cities  and  Villages  were  Laid  Out  .     ...  92 

Drainage 94 

Light  and  Heat 95 

Public  Edifices 96 

Hotels 98 

Bells 99 

Music 101 

Poets  and  Poetry 104 

Musical  Voices 106 

Tight  Dressing //o 

A  Felicity  to  be  Well-Born /  /  2 

A  Composite  Population uj 

Weddings  in  Sub-Ctrl um jij 


6  Contents 

Reasons  for  Remaining  Single 119 

The  First  Gentleman  to  Speak up 

The  Second 121 

The   Third 123 

The  First  Lady 126 

The  Second 128 

The  Third 131 

Drunkenness 134 

Divorce 136 

Refuges  for  Certain  Occasional  Victims  ....  1 37 

Retreats  for  Convalescents 140 

Hospices  for  Visiting  Strangers 143 

Inventors  and  Scholars 146 

Old  People  and  Children 148 

B it  rial-Places 149 

Little  Distinction  in  Marking  Graves      .     .     .     .  75/ 

Funerals 15} 

Chapels  in  Burial-Places /^5 

Motives /  5S 

Funeral  Orations  and  Obituary  Notices      .     .     .  759 

Vocation  and  A 'vocation 161 

Awed  by  Understanding 162 

Students  in  Particular  Lines 163 

Substance  of  a  Lecture 163 

Microscope  and  Camera ij$ 

Electricity ij8 

The  People  did  not  Snore ijp 

Whistling 180 

Dentistry  not  a  Profitable  Profession       ....  182 


Contents  7 

Fries  Utterly  Banished 18) 

Fondness  for  Squirrels 184 

Respect  for  the  Monkey 186 

Instinct  of  Satan 190 

Qualities  and  Faculties  of  the  Dog 191 

Horses  bred  for  Moral  Qualities 194 

Beauty  on  Horseback 195 

Love  for  Birds 196 

insects  and  Reptiles 201 

Infusoria 202 

Character  and  Menial  Resources 203 

The  Individual  the  Immortal 204 

Personal  Independence 206 

Men  wiser  than  Sheep 208 

Individuality  Made  Them  Interesting 210 

The  Law  of  Diversity 21  j 

The  Healthful  Habit  of  Occupation 21 7 

The  Vice  of  Indolence 218 

Probably  and  Perhaps 221 

A  Treasure 224 

The  Social  Conscience 224 

Amusements 22"] 

The  Rule  of  E^ra 231 

Drawing,  Painting,  and  Sculpture 232 

Not  Ambitious  of  Great  Libraries 237 

Thoughts  and  Conduct 239 

The  Press 240 

Results  of  Evolution 244 

Pride  of  Profession 247 


8  Contents 

The  High  Estimate  put  upon  Woman      ....  248 

A  High  Order  of  Wisdom 249 

How  Government  was  Supported 251 

The  Machinery  of  Politics 254 

Essential  Excellence  of  the  People 258 

Their  Religion 262 

Sects  and  Creeds 265 

Worship 267 


SUB-CCELUM 


F  the  people  of  Sub  -Ccelum  favorably 
were  not  happy  it  was  their 
own  fault.  Their  situation 
was  the  most  favorable  under 
the  sun.  Earth  and  sky  smiled 
upon  them.  The  climate  was  genial  and 
salubrious.  Extremes  in  temperature  were 
not  frequent,  and  atmospheric  violences  so 
rare  as  to  be  historical.  Seasons  of  rain  and 
seasons  of  drouth,  to  devastate  and  desic- 
cate, were  not  known.  Forests  of  beauty 
and  grandeur  supplied  every  variety  and 
quality  of  timber,  for  ornament  and  utility. 
Mountains  of  sublimity  and  valleys  of  fertil- 
ity abounded.  Large  streams  ran  by  large 
towns.  Lakes  bordered  villages  and  villas. 
Ocean  provided  cities  with  safe  and  com- 
modious  havens.     Gold  and  silver  in   the  saver  and 

.  .  .       gold. 

mountains  lay  in  strata  convenient  to  be 
operated.  Where  the  land  was  poorest  and 
least  productive,  the  most  valuable  of  the 


io  Sub-Ccelum 

precious  metals,  in  nuggets,  was  deposited  ; 

and  in  the  streams  of  such  parts  the  most 

p<-ar!s  and  perfect    of    pearls,  and    occasionally  dia- 

dia  monds.  .  , .  i  t  t  i       i 

monds,  were  discovered.  Happy  people  ! 
What  they  had  not,  imagination  must  la- 
bor to  supply.  Misery,  to  any  great  extent, 
abode  not  with  them.     So  it  would  appear. 

abundancb  The  ease  with  which  life  was  sustained 
left  them  abundance  of  leisure.  Bent  was 
indulged  and  tastes  were  gratified.  Ad- 
vantages were  turned  to  account.  Not  so 
much  to  get  wealth  as  to  acquire  the  art  of 
living.  To  make  the  most  of  themselves 
and  to  enjoy  the  greatest  amount  of  ra- 
tional pleasure  was  the  common  ambition. 
I  Selfishness,  the  one  great  enemy  of  man- 
'  kind,  was  under  perpetual  ban.  To  gain 
the  mastery  over  themselves,  by  studying 
and  practicing  moderation,  self-control,  and 
humanity,  was  the  prime  object  of  all  per- 

simpikity    sonal  and  organized  effort.     Simplicity  and 

a  >id  modesty  •  1  i  r 

atapremi-  modesty  were  at  a  premium,  and  selt-re- 
spect  and  fellowship  were  exalted  to  a  high 
place  among  the  virtues.  The  great  pur- 
pose of  society  was  to  produce  genuine, 
individual,  friendly  men  and  women,  and  to 
surround  them  with  all  auxiliaries  and  facil- 
ities for  growth  and  happiness. 


a  »i. 


An  Object  of  Pity  1 1 

Marked   individuality   was    conspicuous  marked 

...  .  t  Individuai.- 

amid  all  the  seeming  contusion  it  created,  ity. 
The  great  good  of  it  was  to  cultivate 
mutual  consideration.  Toleration  became 
a  necessity.  Inseparable  from  it  was  a 
strong  pervading  sense  of  justice.  The 
right  of  each  to  be  an  individual  man  in- 
volved the  right  of  every  other  to  be  the 
same.  It  encouraged  diversity  of  view 
while  it  forbade  dogmatical  disputation. 
The  possibility  of  mistake  compelled  gener- 
osity of  judgment.  Feeling  was  repressed 
and   reason   stimulated.       The   occasional  The  man 

-  -  .     .  who  was  al- 

man  who  was  always  right,  was  an  object  ways  right. 
of  universal  pity.  His  deficiencies  were  a 
study  and  his  conceits  a  warning.  If  ill- 
natured  also,  Wisdom  walked  by  him,  as 
by  a  bad  animal,  and  Charity  guarded  him 
against  irritation  and  abuse,  —  curing  him 
finally,  if  curable,  —  eleemosynary  provision 
being  made  for  the  worst  cases. 

The  snarling,  venomous  creature,  who  except™* 
hated  everything,  and  the  motive-monger,  steRS°  ' 
who  was  always  finding  the  worst  reasons 
for  everybody's  actions,  were  the  excep- 
tional monsters — confounding  the  philo- 
sophers and  the  moralists.  They  skulked 
and  they  crawled,  in  defiance  of  all  rules 


12  Sub-Cocliim 

and  appliances,  and  fattened  upon  their 
own  poisonous  secretions.  Every  popu- 
lous neighborhood  had  one  or  more,  to 
tolerate  and  avoid  —  incorrigible  objects 
to  even  the  most  hopeful  of  reformers. 

Conceit  of  The  wonder  was  that  such  characters  so 
excel-  often  had  the  conceit  of  superior  excel- 
lence, which  made  them  particularly  inter- 
esting. They  believed  themselves  better 
than  their  neighbors,  while  their  extraor- 
dinary pretensions  only  made  them  more 
emphatically  unregenerate.  Seeing  only 
outwardly,  other  people's  sins  exasperated 
them.  Society,  to  them,  was  but  an  exag- 
gerated reflection  of  their  own  condition. 
Their  own  moral  machinery  being  in  dis- 
tressful disorder,  all  the  world  must  be 
taken  to  pieces,  mercilessly  made  over,  or 
go  to  ruin. 

couples  of      It   was   the   conclusion    of    intelligence 

Six 

that  eyes,  to  see,  must  be  in  couples  of  six 

—  the  pigs  having  two.  That  to  see  in- 
deed —  within  and  without  and  all  around 

—  eyes  moral  and  eyes  intellectual  were 
as  necessary  as  eyes  physical.  Education 
and  conduct  in  Sub-Ccelum  were  upon  that 
determination.     It  was  never  lost  sight  of. 


Vanity  Circumspect  13 

It  tended  to  make  people  reflective,  con- 
siderate,  and    charitable.     Self  -  estimates  saf-esti. 
were   thoughtfully   made,    and    constantly  thoughtfully 

,         T ,  .  _  made. 

revised.  Vanity  was  circumspect.  It  was 
discovered  that  the  truth,  absolute  and 
unmitigated,  is  hard  to  arrive  at :  that  the 
last  fact  is  ever  .necessary  to  correct  judg- 
ment :  that  color  depends  upon  light  :  that 
good  is  largely  in  the  brush,  and  that  evil 
is  never  so  black  as  malignity  paints  it. 


Their  schools  were  generally  small,  with  schools 

1  11  ht  GENERA!. L 

not  much  system  about  them.  No  great  small. 
pains  were  taken  to  force  the  children, 
especially  while  they  were  little.  Memory 
was  respected,  and  not  over-exerted  or  bur- 
dened. Processes  were  to  develop,  as  far 
as  practicable,  consistent  with  healthful 
growth,  the  best  qualities  and  faculties  of 
individual  pupils.  Differences,  moral  and 
intellectual,  were  recognized  and  regarded. 
It  was  not  thought  possible  to  make  all 
alike,  as  eggs  in  a  basket.  Classes,  for  clones  n> 
that  reason,  were  limited,  and  specially  in- ' 
structed.  Teachers  were  chosen  rather  for 
character  and  manners  than  for  scholar- 
ship. Thorough  gentlemen  and  ladies  were 
preferred.  Influence  for  good  was  looked 
to  as  a  prime  factor.     The  ready  imitative- 


'4 


Sub-Ccelum 


ness  of  the  young  was  made  the  most  of. 
Good  exam.  Good  examples  were  set  before  them  —  the 

/>/t?s    set    b£' 

Me  them,  best  specimens  of  men  and  women  procur- 
able. Inaccurate  language  was  exceptional 
in  the  schoolroom.  The  common  blun- 
ders were  placarded  on  the  walls.  Small 
children  were  taught  by  women  ;  at  eight 
or  nine  years  the  sexes  were  separated,  — 
the  girls  to  be  instructed  by  ladies  and  the 
boys  by  gentlemen  ;  to  give  opportunity, 
little  by  little,  of  imparting  and  impress- 
ing in  a  thousand  ways  a  thousand  things 
essential  to  genuine  manhood  and  woman- 
hood. To  make  good,  intelligent,  self- 
respecting  men  and  women,  fitted  for  self- 
government,  was  kept  in  view  as  the  great 
object  of  education. 


Instruc- 
tion in 
Radical 
Morals. 


In  every  part  of  the  Commonwealth 
schools  for  all  ages  and  both  sexes  were 
established,  where  the  people  were  in- 
structed in  radical  morals,  as  essential  to 
true  religion,  and  inseparable  from  it.  Per- 
sonal responsibility  was  inculcated.  Mar- 
riage was  gravely  considered.  The  rela- 
tions of  the  sexes  were  discussed  in  every 
way  but  the  trifling.  The  nature  and 
ethics  of  debt  were  pondered  and  thought- 
fully illustrated.      Integrity  was  enforced 


The  Thing  Necessary  15 

impressively.  Honesty  to  the  core,  in  all 
that  it  implies,  was  persistently  urged  as 
the  thing  of  all  things  necessary  to  true 
manhood  and  womanhood.  Prudential 
considerations  were  the  last  to  be  named 
in  connection  with  it. 

Chairs  of  Common  Sense  were  set  up  chmks  op 
in  the  universities.  Wise  professors  filled  sense. 
them.  The  distinction  between  scholar- 
ship and  usefulness  was  continually  de- 
fined. Education  was  directed  to  its  uses 
—  even  to  the  unlearning  of  what  could  not 
be  applied  —  adapting  it  to  the  character 
and  wants  of  each  individual  —  anticipa- 
ting, as  far  as  practicable,  occupation  and 
position  in  life.  Boys  were  taught  an  ap- 
prehension of  the  diffusion  and  universality 
of  intelligence ;  that  no  man  had  it  all,  but 
every  man  a  little ;  that  the  average  was 
always  worthy  of  respectful  consultation  ; 
that  the  education  of  the  schools  was  but  as  Thteduca. 
the  scaffolding  and  tools  to  the  builder  —  schools!" 
bearing  in  mind  all  the  time  that  the  build- 
ing that  was  to  endure  was  not  made  with 
hands  ;  that  the  hodman  and  the  farm 
hand  must  teach  him  many  things  he  must 
know  ;  that  the  classics  —  valuable  enough 
for  culture  —  and  the  maxims  of  philoso- 


1 6  Sub-Cain  m 

phy  must  give  way,  again  and  again,  and 
without  humiliation,  to  the  commonest 
experience  of  the  meanest  man,  whom  he 
would  despise,  till  he  had  fairly  put  his 
mind  and  fact  to  his  in  the  conflict  of 
affairs ;  in  fine,  that  he  must  surrender 
his  self-conceit,  be  put  upon  his  feet  with 
the  crowd,  and  totally  unlearn  and  forget 
very  much  that  he  had  learned,  before  he 
could  begin  to  be  truly  sensible  and  wise. 
Theavemge  By  such  means  the  average  wisdom  came 

wisdom. 

to  be  respected.  It  was  the  admitted 
gauge  of  civilization.  It  appeared  too  slow 
to  the  seer  and  too  fast  to  the  philosopher  ; 
but  the  prescience  of  the  one  and  timidity 
of  the  other  were  not  often  consulted.  It 
gave  a  sympathizing  ear  to  the  fervid 
thoughts  of  enthusiasts  and  reformers, 
cooling  and  utilizing  them  by  diffusion.  It 
took  from  the  wearied  eye  and  nerve- 
shaken  hand  of  the  inventor  his  invention, 
and  put  it  to  work  in  the  fields  and  seas. 
Thecommon  It  was  the  common  sense  and  the  common 
common  law  of  life.  It  governed  the  Government 
and  every  man.  It  put  a  hope  into  the 
heart,  and  helped  it  to  pray  as  well  as  to 
work.  It  fostered  ideas  of  progression, 
which  grew  into  system,  and  methodized 
thought  and  exertion.     It  made  tests  for 


! 


A  Means  to  the  End  ly 

formulas  and  platforms,  and  widened  their 
scope  and  purpose  to  a  generous  breadth 
and  humanity.  In  its  providence,  it  cared  it  cared/or 
for  all,  the  little  and  the  great,  the  strong 
and  the  feeble.  Its  modes  appeared  level- 
ing processes,  but  the  valleys  of  shadow 
were  lifted  up.  The  sun,  if  it  did  not  glit- 
ter upon  a  promontory,  warmed  the  plain 
to  produce  a  generous  harvest.  If  genius 
seemed  a  little  crippled  in  its  wing,  it  was 
by  teaching  it  a  steadier  flight.  If  the 
hills  were  less  beautiful  by  cultivation,  the 
vintage  was  compensation.  In  short,  schol- 
arship, less  didactically  and  showily  stated, 
was  esteemed  and  urged,  in  that  depart- 
ment of  culture,  as  but  a  means  to  the  end 
—  peaceful  and  enlightened  society,  gov- 
erned by  humane  and  beneficent  laws  :  an 
Ideal  Republic. 

In   the   schools   and   universities   great  instructed 

.      ,  .  ....  -IN    Tblling 

pains  were  taken  to  instruct  in  telling  the  the  truth. 
truth.  The  viciousness  of  habitual  extrav- 
agance in  language  was  explained  and  il- 
lustrated. The  close  alliance  between  exajr- 
geration  and  lying  was  made  apparent, 
and  all  were  made  to  feel  their  responsibil- 
ity in  speech.  Volubility  was  discouraged. 
Drilling  in  narration  was  constant  and  uni- 


18  Sub-Cochim 

versal.  Facts  were  stated  and  incidents 
related  to  be  repeated.  The  practice  was 
amusing  till  the  consequences  showed  them- 
selves to  be  grave.  The  same  story,  pass- 
ing through  several  minds  and  repeated 
by  as  many  tongues,  was  hardly  recog- 
a  sober  ex-  nized,  and  the  result  became  a  sober  expe- 

perience.  .  ._,... 

nence.  It  infixed  itself  in  the  memory. 
The  dangers  of  careless  speech,  as  they  were 
comprehended,  became  startling.  Habits 
of  attention,  therefore,  and  studied  fidelity 
in  repetition,  were  set  down  conspicuously 
among  the  social  virtues.  Truth-telling 
was  impossible  without  them. 


Low,  un-  The  use  of  low,  unmeaning  language  was 
language,  considered  an  offense  against  intelligence 
and  good-breeding,  and  was  in  every  proper 
way  discouraged  and  prohibited.  Its  rude- 
ness and  inelegance  were  not  the  only 
objections  to  it :  it  corrupted  the  carefully 
guarded  tongue  of  the  people.  The  lan- 
guage, in  thousands  of  years,  had  grown 
to  be  so  extensive  that  its  dictionary  was 
in  many  ponderous  volumes.  The  effort 
for  ages  had  been  to  reduce  it  —  to  elimi- 
nate all  that  was  obsolete  and  impure  — 
Daring  coi  daring  colloquialisms  even  being  excluded. 

loquialisms  ...  -  - 

excluded.     Enlightened  men  and  women  were  known 


Conversation  ig 

and  rated  by  the  purity  and  integrity  of 
their  speech  ;  standards  of  expression  were  standards 
high,  and  not  to  be  despised  ;  rank  was  not  "siof/high, 
risked  by  careless  observance.  Not  that 
there  was  any  lack  in  freedom  of  utter- 
ance. Forbidding  the  exceptionable  en- 
couraged the  best.  Intellect  was  not  shorn 
of  her  wings.  Imagination  soared  and 
gayety  disported  at  will.  Ideas,  lighter 
than  air,  clothed  themselves  in  affluent 
language.  Humor  gladdened  and  glowed 
in  an  easy  flow  of  words,  and  wit  flashed 
out  in  verbal  splendor. 

Conversation,  indeed,  was  cultivated  conversa- 
and  practiced  ambitiously,  but  cautiously.  vItsd. 
Rude  language  and  bad  grammar  were 
socially  punished  in  emphatic  ways,  and 
people  of  good  standing,  making  any  pre- 
tensions to  good  -  breeding  and  culture, 
were  careful  to  be  guiltless  of  them.  Those 
who  violated  in  either,  whatever  their  schol- 
arship, were  set  down  as  vulgar  and  illit- 
erate. The  general  readiness  and  felicity 
were  remarkable.  Euphuism  was  rare.  Euph 
Affectations  and  excesses  of  free  expres- 
sion were  instinctively  avoided.  Inborn 
taste  and  tact  governed  their  intercourse. 
Gossip   was   high    art.      Trivialities   were 


itism 
rare. 


20 


Sub-Ccclum 


Specialties 
of  every 
sort. 


adorned  and  illustrated  in  a  manner  to  cre- 
ate and  maintain  interest  in  them.  Light 
philosophy  turned  the  smallest  events  to 
account,  and  made  each  one  seem  impor- 
tant and  respectable.  Habits  of  adapta- 
tion led  them  into  every  sort  of  specialty. 
Hardly  anything  but  had  its  experts  and 
professors.  Hints  from  nature  were  real- 
ized in  mechanism  and  art.  Novelties, 
improvements,  inventions,  were  number- 
less. Every  flying  and  creeping  thing  had 
its  enthusiasts  and  exponents.  Ephemera, 
infusoria,  animalculas,  were  classified  and 
individualized,  without  limit.  Microbes, 
bacilli,  were  pets  of  the  imagination.  Chil- 
dren, even,  seemed  familiar  with  the  mon- 
sters of  the  microscope,  and  talked  of  them 
as  glibly  as  of  their  playthings  and  the 
chemical  elements. 


Eagerness  to  know  seemed  not  to  ex- 


Ingenuous- 
nbss  a  So- 
cial excel-  ceed  the  willingness   to  impart 

LENCE. 

sonal 


In  per- 
affairs,  secrecy  was  exceptional. 
Where  acuteness  was  universal,  discovery 
was  nearly  inevitable.  Concealment  being 
next  to  impossible,  few  thought  of  attempt- 
ing it.  Ingenuousness,  perforce,  became 
one  of  the  social  excellences.  Autobio- 
graphical writing  was  in   fashion.      Publi- 


respected. 


A  Distinguishing  Charm  21 

cation  of  such  self-revelation  being  in  vio- 
lation of  the  public  taste,  manuscripts 
accumulated  in  private  cabinets,  to  be  con- 
sulted only  in  social  emergencies.  Re-  Reporters 
porters  were  everywhere  respected  and 
deferred  to.  It  was  considered  squeamish 
to  withhold  information  from  them  —  the 
reporters  themselves  being  trusted  to  judge 
of  its  fitness  or  unfitness  for  publication. 
They  made  visits  from  house  to  house,  and 
it  was  expected  that  everything  of  general 
interest  would  be  communicated  to  them. 
Cases  sometimes  occurred  when  public  in- 
dignation was  aroused  by  efforts  to  mis- 
inform, divert,  or  baffle  the  indispensable 
news-gatherer. 

The  desire  to  behave  well  was  as  general  beh 
as  the  desire  to  talk  well.  Politeness  was 
a  distinguishing  charm.  Manners  were 
simple  and  easy.  Stateliness  was  avoided. 
Offensive  familiarity  was  scarcely  known. 
Intrusion  was  frankly  apologized  for.  Side- 
door  visiting  was  not  tolerated.  Compli- 
ment was  cultivated.  To  say  pleasant 
things  to  one  another  was  the  universal  The 
custom.  All  were  gratified  by  praise  ; 
they  only  wanted  it  to  be  sincere.  Ful- 
some flattery  was  received  in  a  way  to  for- 


itmver- 
sal  custom. 


22  Sub-Ccelum 

bid  a  repetition  of  it.  It  was  considered  a 
cheapening  and  degradation  of  one's  self  to 
invite  it,  and  a  duty  of  refinement  to  re- 
buke it.  Ladies  set  their  faces  against  it. 
sarcasm  Sarcasm  was  not  often  indulged,  and  only 
"iLiged.'1 '"'  then  between  close  friends.  When  ill-na- 
ture prompted  it,  it  was  a  crime  against 
the  peace  of  society.  Obliquity  of  every 
sort  was  distrusted.  They  had  a  bad  opin- 
ion of  the  lion  on  account  of  his  step.  Di- 
rectness was  preferred,  even  to  the  extent 
of  incivility.  It  was  a  great  offense  to  be 
called  cunning  or  shrewd.  Artifice  was 
the  sign  of  a  wry  mind  and  perverted  heart. 
To  say  slyly  what  would  occasion  unhappi- 
ness  was  an  outrage  to  justify  punishment. 
Good-nature  and  humanity  were  shocked 
by  it.  To  make  others  happy  was  the  rule 
and  practice  ;  the  contrary  was  the  rarest 
exception.  Especially  it  was  the  habit  to 
give  the  greatest  encouragement  to  worthy 
effort.  Good  deeds  were  heartily  com- 
mended. By  that  means  young  and  old 
were  stimulated  to  do  their  best.  You 
never  met  a  boy  or  a  girl  who  had  not 
Approbation  received  encouraging  words.  Approbation 
/ace.  '  was  in  every  face.  Hope  was  kept  alive 
by  it.  Hearts  were  made  human.  They 
flowed  together  in  good-fellowship. 


The  Difficulty  of  Moderation         23 

A  habit  of  charitable  judgment  had  aAHABiTOF 
refining  effect  upon  the  people.  Experi-  b"eajudg- 
ence  made  them  cautious  in  condemning. 
They  were  taught  to  know  the  limits  of 
bad  and  good  — that  nobody  was  quite  per- 
fect enough  to  merit  deification,  nor  so 
utterly  corrupt  as  to  be  a  castaway.  That 
a  man  must  be  looked  at  all  around,  within, 
by  a  fair  light,  and  with  a  good  eye,  to  be 
seen  truly  and  judged  justly.  They  were 
taught  the  difficulty  of  moderation  :  that  if 
calm  and  deliberate  enough  to  be  just,  they 
were  almost  sure  to  be  indifferent :  that 
ignorance,  interests,  prejudices,  blinded 
their  eyes,  darkened  their  minds,  and  in- 
clined them  to  violence.  If  a  story  came 
to  them  derogatory  of  a  friend  or  neighbor, 
they  first  asked  themselves,  Is  it  true  ?  Is 
it  a  natural  thing  for  the  man  to  do  ?  Is 
he  capable  of  such  an  act?     Deliberation  Effects of 

1  1  ■.  .  .  .     .  ,  deliberation. 

made  them  slow  in  determining  and  cau- 
tious in  accepting  ;  certain  that  the  truth 
would  present  the  matter  differently. 
Hesitation  made  them  charitable.  It  in- 
culcated making  the  most  of  the  good  and 
the  least  of  the  bad,  and  to  hope  accord- 
ingly. They  were  refined  by  generosity 
of  judgment,  as  they  were  made  modest  by 
introspection.     Epithets  of  derogation  and 


24  Sub-Ccelum 

condemnation  were  rarely  used.  Motives 
were  not  closely  questioned.  Sincerity 
did  not  need  to  be  proved.  Virtue  was 
not  absolute.  Intelligence,  at  best,  was 
A  favorite   extremely  limited.      At  sea,  they  said,  a 

illustration.  ,  .  c  i  a1 

person  s  eye  being  six  feet  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  his  horizon  is  only  two 
miles  and  four  fifths  distant ;  yet  his 
tongue  will  as  freely  wag  of  the  world  as  if 
it  were  all  spinning  under  his  eye.  We 
freely  discuss  the  ignorance  of  those  we 
believe  to  be  less  intelligent  than  ourselves, 
never  thinking  that  we  are  the  cause  of 
like  amusement  to  those  who  are  more 
intelligent  than  we  are.  Fewer  laugh  with 
us  than  at  us.  The  grades  are  so  many 
that  contrast  is  more  natural  than  compari- 
son. Unfortunately,  too,  it  is  only  in  the 
descent  that  we  can  see,  and  that  but  a  lit- 
tle way.  We  know  it  is  up,  up,  that  we 
would  go  ;  but  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  are 
but  vaguely  visible.  But  a  small  part  we 
The  prodi-    perceive  of  the  prodigious  sweep  from  the 

gious  sweep.  .         ... 

lowest  ignorance  to  possible  intelligence. 
Upon  their  feet  with  their  fellows,  and  con- 
scious of  the  countless  limitations  to  wis- 
dom and  virtue,  the  people  of  Sub-Ccelum 
grew  more  refined  and  truly  polite  as  they 
became  more  modest  and  charitable. 


Character  not  in  the  Market         25 
Their   superior   men   and   women  were  their  su- 

■     a  perior  Men 

held  in  high  estimation,  and  the  influence  and  w0- 

MEN. 

they  exerted  was  everywhere  apparent. 
Society  in  many  cases  seemed  only  a  re- 
flection of  them.  Their  high  standards  of 
conduct  toned  and  tempered  minds  and 
hearts  in  remotest  relations  with  them. 
The  atmospheres  they  made  and  carried 
with  them  were  pervasive.  It  was  beauti- 
ful to  see  the  respect  and  deference  that 
was  paid  to  them  :  silently  and  uncon- 
sciously paid,  as  the  mimosa  renders  hom- 
age to  a  passing  creature.     Flatteries  were  Flatteries 

010  notlieaped 

not  heaped  upon  them  ;  the  excellences  upon  num. 
they  incarnated  forbade  grossness  or  indeli- 
cacy. The  wisdom  they  dispensed  and  the 
good  they  did  were  not  for  compensation. 
Character  was  not  in  the  market.  Mere- 
triciousness  did  not  attempt  to  entice,  nor 
artifice  to  purchase.  Ingenuousness  was  ingenuous. 
a.  perpetual  rebuke  to  devices,  disguises,  buke. 
obliquities.  Compliment  was  best  paid  to 
superiority  by  adopting  whatever  was  pos- 
sible of  preeminence.  Mere  ability  was 
not  so  highly  esteemed  as  integrity  —  en- 
tireness.  Men  who  were  morally  sound 
—  incapable  of  duplicity  and  baseness,  and 
women  who  were  genuine  and  pure  —  of 
all  excellence,  were  objects  of  unconscious 


ness  a  re- 


26  Sub-Carl  urn 

reverence.  In  their  lives  were  taught  vir- 
tue, honesty,  honor,  humanity,  charity  — 
all  that  constitutes  true  manhood  and  wo- 
manhood. When  a  superior  man  or  woman 
entered  any  assembly,  there  was  always 
more  or  less  of  sensation  visible  in  visages 
and  slight  movement.  Such  personages 
Perpetual  were  perpetual  surprises.  They  were  bet- 
ter than  they  appeared,  wiser  than  they 
assumed,  did  more  than  they  promised,  and 
were  encouraging  phenomena  in  virtue  and 
humanity  —  examples  of  all  that  is  precious 
in  character. 

their  So-        Their  social  meetings  were  all  that  could 

cial  Meet-  .  ,       .        .  .  ,  , 

ings.  be  desired  to  promote  harmony  and  good- 

neighborship.  They  met  together  cor- 
dially, without  awkwardness  or  ostentation. 
Manners  were  such  as  good  sense  and  good 
feeling  had  suggested  and  determined.  Ex- 
cited and  rapid  conversation,  as  stated,  was 
not  in  good  taste.  To  talk  much  or  eagerly 
was  not  a  common  ambition.  Speech  was 
upon  the  assumed  basis  of  general  intelli- 
gence, and  was  supplementary  or  comple- 
mentary. To  assume  ignorance,  to  enlarge 
sins  against  pedantically,  were  sins  against  good-man- 
g7iers'!"a  ners  ;  decency  was  offended  by  them.  Pat- 
ronizing ways  were  not  thought  of,  because 


Fashion  not  Omnipotent  2j 

not  tolerated,  —  equality,  for  the  nonce, 
being  the  prime  condition.  The  happy  few, 
with  exceptional  animal  spirits  and  tact, 
who  were  able  to  fuse  elements  together, 
were  acknowledged  social  forces  :  as  moral  Acknmvi- 

,    .  ,,  .  ,     .      edged  social 

and  intellectual  amalgams,  they  were  duly /*>-<:«. 
appreciated  ;  wherever  they  appeared,  in- 
sulation was  impracticable.  Whatever  of 
dexterity  they  employed  was  not  easily 
discernible ;  show  of  management  or  ma- 
nipulation would  have  been  fatal.  Fashion 
was  not  omnipotent,  though  exacting.  It 
was  hardly  a  device  of  ugliness  to  entrap 
beauty.  Loveliness,  in  a  great  degree,  was 
independent  of  it.  Youth  and  beauty,  in 
simple  dresses,  were  conspicuous.  Only 
the  middle-aged  and  old  dressed  richly  and 
expensively.  Diamonds  and  gold  were 
too  common  to  be  often  used  for  personal 
adornment.  Intelligence  in  the  eye,  roses 
in  the  cheek,  charity  on  the  tongue,  were 
better  than  all  artificialities.  Figure  was  Better  than 
displayed,  but  not  the  charms  of  it  indeli-  cat/ties. 
cately.  The  consciously  well-dressed  were 
least  so.  Immodesty,  or  anything  that  sug- 
gested it,  was  not  seen.  Rudeness,  even, 
blushed  at  the  thought  of  it.  Beautiful 
women  were  beautiful  as  they  appeared 
pure.    Deceitful  enticement  in  the  slightest 


28  Sub-Ccelum 

incarnate  made  them  ugly.  Incarnate  virtue  was 
womanhood,  ideal  womanhood.  Men  honored  it  above 
everything  earthly.  It  was  reverenced  in 
their  mothers,  their  sisters,  their  wives, 
their  daughters  ;  and  their  treatment  of  all 
women  was  touched  by  the  distinction.  In 
their  social  parties  both  sexes  of  all  ages 
commingled  —  a  few  children  being  consid- 
ered necessary  to  a  complete  company,  as 
undergrowth  is  indispensable  to  a  healthy 
Respect  and  forest.  Respect  and  amenity  characterized 
behavior  and  word.  The  young  were  def- 
erential to  the  old,  and  the  old  considerate 
of  the  young.  Venerable  ladies  received 
the  attentions  of  young  men,  and  venerable 
gentlemen  extended  every  politeness  to 
young  women.  Age  and  youth  were  side 
by  side  in  the  dance  and  at  the  banquet. 
Courtliness  and  the  small  sweet  courtesies 
were  taught  and  practiced.  Manhood  was 
improved  and  womanhood  exalted.  Hu- 
man nature  appeared  best  in  the  bright- 
est light.  Pessimism,  even,  if  it  existed, 
thought  it  worth  while  to  continue  the 
race  under  hopeful  conditions. 

their  Flo-      Not  the  least  attractive  feature  of  their 

RAL   EXHIBI-        .... 

tujns.         civilization   was    their    floral     exhibitions. 
The  universal  taste  and  a  generous  rivalry 


Surpassing  the  Flowers  29 

made  them  frequent.  Everybody  attended 
them,  and  the  enthusiasm  shown  was  beau- 
tiful to  see.  Men  and  women  had  become 
famous  by  cultivating  and  propagating  par- 
ticular species.      Gardens  of  roses  and  gar-  Gardens  0/ 

r  t  t       •  roses  and 

dens  of  pinks  were  everywhere.     Varieties  gardens  of 

r  J  pinks. 

seemed  infinite.  The  bloom  of  the  dande- 
lion and  daisy  was  grown  to  be  thrice  as 
great  as  in  the  wild  state.  The  hollyhocks 
were  prodigious.  The  geraniums  blazed  in 
a  marvelousness  of  color.  Chrysanthe- 
mums of  bewildering  variety  and  beauty 
were  the  pride  of  the  multitude.  Pansies 
appeared  living  creatures.  In  these  shows 
the  best  achievements  in  floriculture  were 
brought  together.  The  taste  displayed, 
and  the  abounding  beauty,  made  them 
delightful  and  memorable  occasions.  But 
more  attractive  than  the  flowers  were  the 
throngs  of  humanity  that  moved  amongst 
them.  Beauty  was  made  more  beautiful  Beauty  and 
and  nobility  more  noble  by  being  brought  brought  to- 
together  so  auspiciously.  All  that  was 
good  in  man  and  woman  seemed  to  shine 
out  in  happy  faces.  Roses  in  cheeks 
bloomed  with  a  warmth  the  roses  in  the 
gardens  did  not  have.  Expression  was  ani- 
mated by  the  enlivening  scene.  Beauty 
was  surprised  into  attitudes  that  poet  or 


jo  Sub-Ccelum 

Two  float,  painter  had  never  witnessed.  The  two 
mces?  '  floating  radiances  that  appear  and  disap- 
pear amidst  the  roses  !  Noiseless  as  spring 
sunshine  and  as  inspiring.  Blonde  and 
brunette,  distinct,  together,  and  blending. 
Raven  hair  and  golden,  rippling  at  random 
and  flowing  together.  Blue  eyes  and  black, 
alternating ;  confusing  your  fancies,  like 
the  changing  hues  of  a  sunset.  Complex- 
ions nut-brown  and  alabaster,  warm  and 
roseate  with  innocency  and  ripeness.  And 
The  good     the   good    woman   of   threescore  who   ex- 

wotnan  of  .....  ...  itt 

threescore,  changes  civilities  with  them !  Her  com- 
plexion is  as  clear  and  her  face  almost  as 
sunny  as  theirs.  That  glistening  silver 
lock  must  but  a  moment  since  have  turned 
gray  while  she  unconsciously  twisted  it. 
Her  voice  and  smile  and  eyes  do  not  an- 
swer to  so  much  of  life  and  vicissitude. 
The  three  sympathize  and  mingle,  without 
adjustment  or  dissonance.  Happy  children 
and  grave  men  add  to  the  diversity  of  the 
occasion.  What  could  be  more  elevating, 
picturesque,  or  wholesome,  than  human  in- 
tercourse under  favorable  auspices  ? 

each  Day's      Each  day's  dinner  was  much  of  an  event 
dinner.      ^  every  family.    It  came  early  in  the  after- 
noon, as  the  hours  of  labor  and  business 


The  Family  Dinner  31 

were  not  many.  It  was  the  rule  to  forget 
the  cares  of  the  day,  and  to  put  away  anx- 
iety, as  far  as  possible,  in  preparation  for 
it.  Plenty  of  time  was  taken,  to  fully  en- 
joy it.  Not  that  the  population  were  espe- 
cially devoted  to  eating  ;  they  looked  more 
to  the  civilities  and  socialities  than  to  the  The  tiviii 
indulgence  of  the  appetite.  Cleanliness  cMities. 
was  particularly  observed,  in  person  and  in 
table-habits.  Promptness  was  expected  of 
every  one,  and  a  careful  consideration  for 
the  comfort  and  pleasure  of  others  was 
maintained.  Each  one  took  his  place, 
without  eagerness  or  disorder.  The  service 
was  deliberate,  and  in  courses  — chemi- 
cally right  foods  being  served  together. 
Tables  were  padded  to  limit  the  noise  of 
dishes.    Personal  peculiarities  of  taste  were  Peculiar*. 

.  .  .  .  .  ties  of  taste 

ignored  or  not  referred  to.  Noise  in  eat-  ignored. 
ing  was  scrupulously  avoided.  Pigs  for 
that,  they  said,  not  men.  Children  were 
so  instructed,  but  not  at  the  table.  Ra- 
pidity was  not  indulged,  for  the  same  rea-  1 
son.  A  famished  manner  was  offensive. 
Excess  in  quantity  also.  Repletion  was 
as  objectionable  as  voracity.  The  dishes 
served,  their  costliness  and  preparation, 
were  not  elaborately  discussed.  Dining 
was  else  and  more  than  feeding.     It   in- 


$2  Sub-Ca'htm 

eluded  all  that  was  civilized  and  generous. 
Best  impulses  were  quickened  and  liveliest 
ideas  evolved.     Irony  was  not  indulged  at 

Good/eeiing  the  expense  of  good-nature.  Good  feeling 
was  requisite  to  a  good  dinner —  a  better 
sauce,  if  possible,  than  hunger.  Words 
were  not  taken  from  others'  mouths  ;  in- 
terruption was  rudeness.  Subjects  intro- 
-V  duced,  as  far  as  practicable,  were  elevat- 
ing, but  not  above  the  range  of  the  average. 
Free  utterance  was  encouraged,  but  not, 
as  before  observed,  too  great  precipitancy 
or  volubility.  Discoursing,  or  talking  in  a 
lecturing  way,  was  a  violation  of  good  ta- 
ble-manners. That  every  one  might  have 
due  opportunity  of  participating,  anything 
like  monopoly,   if  indulged,  was  jealously 

children  en-  restricted.  Children  were  encouraged  to 
a  full  share  in  conversation.  Occasion,  in- 
deed, was  often  made  to  give  them  promi- 
nence —  self-instruction  being  an  ulterior 
purpose.  Birthdays  of  distinguished  men 
and  women  were  selected  for  their  special 
benefit.  A  little  better  dinner  than  usual 
was  provided,  an  extra  dish  or  an  additional 
course  being  sufficient.  A  suitable  guest 
was  selected  to  partake,  and  to  put  all  upon 
their  good  behavior.  The  children  were 
expected  to   lead   on  these  anniversaries. 


Cooking  in  Sub-Ccelim  33 

Ample  time  was  given  them  for  prepara- 
tion. Dictionaries,  cyclopaedias,  and  bio- 
graphies were  consulted  for  facts  and  inci- 
dents. Each  one  was  depended  upon  to 
contribute  an  anecdote  or  interesting  fact. 
Contemporaneous  history  was  recalled. 
Lessons  in  philosophy  and  concfuct  were  Lessons  sug. 
suggested.  The  good  in  the  several  char-^ 
acters  considered  was  brought  out  exem- 
plarily,  and  the  bad  referred  to  in  admoni- 
tion. The  great  and  excellent  in  life  and 
literature  were  thus  studied  and  kept  in 
memory.  All  were  made  to  think,  and  to 
grow  in  enlightenment.  The  children  espe- 
cially were  helped  and  stimulated  in  self- 
education. 

Cooking  was  a  proud  art  in  Sub-Ccelum,  cooking  a 
and  was  carried  to  great  perfection.  Still 
they  experimented,  and  their  best  results 
were  from  time  to  time  announced  in  gas- 
tronomic journals.  The  invention  of  a  new 
dish  gave  distinction,  next  to  the  discov- 
ery of  a  new  planet.  Chemistry  was  so  ^ 
persistently  and  ingeniously  applied  that 
kitchens  became  laboratories.  Bad  cook- 
ing was  a  sin,  and  brought  shame  upon  the 
sinner.  This  extraordinary  interest  in  the 
art  was  due  in  great  part  to  the  prevailing 


34 


Siib-Ccelum 


Sallowness 
a  reproach. 


Morals  and  opinion  that  morals  largely  were  emana- 
tions of  the  stomach,  and  that  men  were 
good  and  healthy  as  they  were  well  fed. 
Curious  and  wonderful  instances  were 
collected  in  proof.  Crimes  were  traced  to 
bad  breakfasts,  as  benefactions  were  to 
good  dinners.  The  philosophic  cook  ac- 
counted for  conduct  as  he  did  for  complex- 
ions. Roses  in  cheeks  told  their  history. 
Sallowness  was  a  reproach,  and  was  very 
rare.  The  shades  of  melancholy  appeared 
in  few  faces.  It  was  the  general  belief 
that  most  diseases  were  caused  by  bad  or 
ill-cooked  food,  and  that  few  of  them  that 
were  remediable  would  not  yield  to  right 
diet.  The  doctor  often,  before  writing  his 
prescription,  questioned  the  economy  of 
the  kitchen.  The  priest,  before  consola- 
tion or  absolution,  did  the  same.  Courts, 
in  the  trial  of  criminals,  directed  similar 
inquiry,  and  extenuation  or  commutation 
was  often  a  result  of  it.  Law-makers  were 
indebted  to  cooks  for  suggestions.  Moral- 
ists were  liberal  as  they  were  gastronomi- 
cally  wise.  Pork  was  held  accountable  for 
much  that  was  bad  in  the  world,  roast  pig 
excepted.  The  young  of  swine,  something 
heavier  than  a  full-grown  capon,  were 
objects   upon  which   genius   expended   it- 


Roast  pig 


The  Custard  Apple  55 

self.  The  sweet  juices  thereof  reached  the 
sources  of  sense,  and  remained  in  the 
mind  as  on  the  palate,  inclining  it  to  gen- 
erous reflection.  Fish,  too,  the  particular  Fish. 
food  of  the  brain,  employed  and  exhausted 
the  possibilities  of  kitchen  science.  Never 
a  drop  of  water  entered  into  one  of  the 
finny  tribe  after  the  knife  had  done  its 
office.  The  natural  juices  were  all  pre- 
served —  every  particle.  Banquets  exclu- 
sively of  fish,  with  ichthyological  pictures 
all  round,  were  not  uncommon  events. 
Symposia  they  were  of  wit  and  eloquence. 
Bread-making  was  carried  to  great  perfec-  Bread- 
tion.  Loaves  were  congeries  of  sweet '"' 
crystals.  The  light  shone  through  them. 
They  were  marvelous.  Common  articles 
were  made  wondrously  palatable  by  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  cooked  and 
served.  Fruits  especially  were  temptingly 
presented.  The  papaw,  the  North  Ameri-  rite  papaw. 
can  custard  apple,  was  a  favorite  of  the 
people.  It  was  sedulously  cultivated,  and 
was  considered  excellent  above  all  other 
fruit.  Ripening  upon  the  tree,  and  falling 
upon  the  leaves,  it  caught  a  taste  of  earth 
and  heaven  that  was  ambrosial.  It  was 
the  supreme  delicacy,  and  was  daintily 
eaten.     Nothing  so    palatable,  they  said  ; 


36  Sub-Ccelum 

certainly  nothing  uncooked.  An  appropri- 
ately artistic  dish  received  it.  The  knife 
to  lay  off  its  skin  was  set  in  diamonds. 
The  spoon  to  eat  it  with  was  of  purest  gold, 
a  bit  at  a     of  delicate  and  exquisite  workmanship.    A 

time  enough.  ...  .  r 

bit  at  a  time  was  enough,  every  atom  of 
which  rose  to  the  sensorium.  A  half  an 
hour  was  considered  too  short  a  period  to 
linger  over  this  achievement  of  nature  — 
her  one  inimitable,  unsurpassable  custard. 
The  beautiful  orchards  of  this  Fruit  of 
Paradise  were  the  triumph  and  pride  of 
pomology. 

their  good  The  people,  being  highly  intelligent,  re- 
'  quired  the  best  of  physicians.  A  little 
smattering  and  a  great  deal  of  pretension 
would  not  do.  Ignorance,  that  presumed 
to  exercise  important  functions,  was  held 
to  be  criminal.  When  exposed,  it  became 
an  object  of  public  reproach.  It  might 
trifle  with  anything  but  human  life  and  not 
be  declared  odious  ;  but  when  poor  human 
bodies  were  subjected  to  merest  empiri- 
cism, the  public  sense  and  the  public  con- 
science revolted.  It  was  understood  that 
(the  more  knowledge  the  physician  had,  the 
better  fitted  he  was  for  his  profession.  No 
man,  in  their  judgment,  could  know  too 


The  Human  Machine  37 

much  to  be  a  good  doctor.  There  was, 
they  knew,  no  end  to  the  knowledge  appli- 
cable to  the  treatment  of  disease.  The 
physician  was  not  expected  to  perform 
miracles,  as  the  world  had  grown  too  wise  | 
to  expect  the  miraculous.  The  human  ma- 
chine was  admitted  to  be  frail,  and  destined 
to  go  to  pieces.  The  house  of  clay  was  The  house  of 
only  to  be  kept  in  such  repair  as  to  be  c  y' 
presentable  and  comfortably  habitable  till 
abandoned.  It  was  not  made  to  resist 
earthquakes  nor  time.  Only  the  every- 
day storms  and  ills  were  to  be  averted  or 
cured.  The  one  great  shock  or  poison, 
which  shatters  or  rots  the  structure,  the 
wisest  could  not  forefend  nor  baffle.  Thera- 
peutics could  not  be  so  exact  as  anatomy. 
With  the  aid  of  anaesthetics,  the  medical 
carpenter  might  cut  and  saw  his  poor  fel- 
low with  certainty.     But  the  many  influ-  influenceso/ 

r  .  ,  .  climate,    ap- 

ences   of    climate,    appetite,    and    passion  fetiu,  and 

passion. 

upon  human  bodies,  as  varied  by  predispo- 
sitions, habits,  and  ambitions  as  they  were 
numerous,  were  admitted  to  be  past  find- 
ing out  mathematically,  and  too  often  were 
only  to  be  guessed  at,  as  the  turns  of  the 
market,  or  the  whims  of  insanity.  Sin- 
cere, and  devoted  to  his  calling  —  carry- 
ing conscience  into  it  as  well  as   intelli- 


38  Sub-Ccelum 

gence  —  the  physician  was  not  expected 
to  accommodate  himself  to  pretenses  nor 
a  pro/es-  whims.  A  professional  call  meant  sober 
%uantc*ober  business,  and  his  sense  of  duty  commanded 
candor.  If  indolence,  or  indulgence,  or 
vice  were  the  cause  of  ailment,  he  frankly 
announced  and  characterized  it.  The  cher- 
ished habits,  appetites,  or  desires  must  be 
abandoned  before  he  could  begin  a  cure 
of  their  results.  Describing  their  effects 
upon  the  body,  he  did  not  suggest  their 
blighting  consequences  upon  the  character. 
That,  he  considerately  left  to  the  curer  of 
souls  —  the  clergyman  or  the  priest. 

the  quack      Time   was,  even   in    Sub-Ccelum,  when 
contrast!    the  quack  doctor  —  the  empiric,  the  char- 
latan, the  pretender  —  was  in  fashion.     To 
appearances  he  was  most  considerate  and 
respectful,   while  with  the   real   he  made 
merchandise.     A  large  proportion,  and  the 
most  substantial,  of  his  patients,  were  only 
growing   old,    but    they    submitted    to   be 
drugged  and  drugged,  rather  than  to  be 
told    the    wholesome    truth.      The    slight 
weaknesses  and  aches,  as  natural  as  gray 
hairs  and  dim   eyesight,  pride  of  life  and 
Dignified     the  pretender's  arts  dignified  into  illnesses. 
'  Thin   locks   and   spectacles   were   natural 


Wise  Prescriptions  59 

enough,  and  well  enough,  and  becoming ; 
but  flattening  muscles  and  cooling  circula- 
tion were  results  of  over-work  or  impru- 
dence, and  might  be  restored  to  roundness 
and  comfortable  temperature.  The  doc- 
tor's wise  prescription  was  higher  living 
and  heavier  woolens,  with  powders  and  Heavier 
drops  now  and  then  as  alteratives  and 
tonics,  and  just  soon  enough,  to  a  visit,  he 
conducted  the  case  to  a  favorable  issue. 
The  air  of  another  clime  was  recommended 
if  his  patient's  patience  seemed  failing,  or 
if,  as  the  real  case  might  be,  the  ill-judg- 
ment of  a  stubborn  husband  was  to  be  cor- 
rected. Many  of  his  patients  who  were 
given  to  gayety  and  irregular  hours,  who 
were  too  frail  to  bear  children,  his  mere 
hint  of  the  fact  was  of  profit  to  the  mon- 
ster in  a  palace,  whose  specialty  was  such 
cases.  Expressionless  eyes  and  dullness 
contrasted  with  beauty  and  thin  dresses, 
and  stimulants  in  every  form  were  sug- 
gested to  supply  the  needed  lustre  and 
sprightliness,  and  complete  the  harmony. 
Small  potions  at  first  were  sufficient  ;  and  Smaiipo- 
if  gradual  increase  of  quantity  resulted 
unfortunately,  the  misfortune  was  disease, 
to  be  treated  by  a  still  further  increase  of 
the  cause  as  a  remedy.     If  the  public  voice 


40  Sub-Ccelum 

Crime  *n      was  silenced  by  the  presence  of  crime  in 

many  house-  ,  .      .  .  .  r  .  ,      , 

holds.  so  many  households  ;  if  brothels  sprang  up 

palatially  in  desirable  streets  ;  if  hospitals 
multiplied  to  exhaust  the  public  purse  ;  the 
fashionable  doctor,  who  was  the  genius  and 
patron  of  them  all,  was  secure  in  his  fame 
and  opulence.  Long,  long  since,  the  peo- 
ple of  Sub-Ccelum  had  grown  too  wise  and 
excellent  to  tolerate  such  an  embodiment 
of  insincerity  and  artfulness.  They  pre- 
ferred conscience  and  candor  in  their  phy- 
sicians, and  profited  by  them  in  body  and 
in  spirit. 

The  cler-  Time  was,  also,  when  the  clergy  of  Sub- 
ccelum.  Ccelum  were  not  all  that  they  might  have 
been.  Too  many  of  them  had  grown 
worldly  and  time-serving.  The  occupant 
of  the  carved  pulpit,  it  was  said,  whose 
wants  were  only  imaginary,  knelt  upon 
cushions  of  velvet,  and  thanked  gracious 
Heaven  for  having  made  the  circumstances 
of  all  mankind  so  extremely  happy.  Mate- 
rial demands  upon  him  having  been  paid 
by  checks  on  his  banker,  he  was  profoundly 
ignorant  <?/ ignorant   of   the  shifts   of   the  multitude. 

the  multi-       TT  ... 

titde.  Here  and  there,  in  pews  nearest  the  pulpit, 

reposed,  in  fresh  raiment  and  elegance,  rep- 
resentatives of  every  institution  of  finance 


Knew  the  World  41 

and  commerce  ;  and  their  joint  possessions 
impressed  him  with  the  fullness  of  benefi- 
cence.    To  illustrate  his  theme,  he  was  not  Nat  limited 

, .       .        .  .  ,  to  average 

limited  to  average  experience,  but  was  experience. 
expected  to  range  beyond  and  above  it. 
He  was  understood  to  know  the  world  in 
an  enlarged  way ;  and  if  his  figures  or  ex- 
amples suggested  the  successes  or  power 
of  certain  of  his  hearers,  their  complacency 
was  stimulated  if  their  hearts  were  not 
softened.  He  was  not  to  shock  by  an  ex- 
posure of  subtlety  which  circumvented,  or 
combination  which  oppressed,  but  to  soothe 
by  a  glittering  exhibition  of  ends  and  at- 
tainments. The  possession  of  money,  in 
whatever  prodigious  quantity,  was  not  to 
be  questioned,  but  only  the  love  of  it.  A  Love  of 
little  ingenuity  would  comfort  the  posses-  Mone:y' 
sor  by  suggesting  his  expenditures,  and 
make  him  as  conspicuous  in  the  sanctuary 
as  his  equipage  made  him  in  the  avenue. 
His  thoughts  were  especially  pitched  to 
the  ears  of  those  he  besought,  to  whom  he 
owed  all,  and  from  whom  he  expected  even 
more.  Their  courtly  presence  he  had  en- 
joyed till  their  moral  atmosphere  had  be- 
come his  own,  and  his  passions  flowed 
much  in  the  same  current  with  theirs. 
Once  a  year  the  Golden  Rule  was  dwelt  Rule. 


4* 


Siib-Ccclwn 


Honor  the 
rule. 


upon,  to  harmonize  and  conciliate  commer- 
cial niceties.  Refinement  and  specious- 
ness  might  display  themselves  upon  so 
sober  a  generality.  If  not  a  vague  abstrac- 
tion, it  might  be  only  relative  in  its  appli- 
cation to  life,  as  honesty  in  the  common 
sense  was  not  integrity.  Honor  was  the 
practicable  and  necessary  rule.  The  specu- 
lator might  have  it,  and  trade  by  it,  though 
his  ingenuous  friend  be  ruined  by  his 
scheme.  Thief  he  might  morally  be,  and 
a  beggar  his  dupe,  but  the  contract  must 
be  fulfilled,  and  justice  indorse  it.  As  the 
ethics  to  govern  in  the  settlement  between 
man  and  his  Maker,  with  character  only  in 
judgment,  the  Golden  Rule  was  unques- 
tionable, but  not  in  the  court  of  the  money- 
changers, where  honor  alone  gilded  the 
edges  of  promises.  With  the  motives  of 
the  heart  God  must  deal.  Man  must  have 
a  pretty      his   due.     He  was  a   pretty  preacher  for 

preacher  for  . 

youngpeofie.  young  people.  His  manner  moved  them 
like  the  bursting  spring.  His  similes  were 
of  buds,  and  blossoms,  and  fresh  verdure. 
His  soft  words  and  gentle  gestures  win- 
nowed fragrance.  His  accuracy  and  vari- 
ety of  taste  made  him  a  connoisseur  in 
everything  pertaining  to  colors  and  fabrics. 
At  home  everywhere  where  there  was  ele- 


Artist  and  Arbiter  43 

gance,  contrasts  and  harmonies  had  trained 
him  to  refinement  of  observation,  and  he 
was  at  once  the  artist  and  arbiter  in  per- 
plexity. As  a  relaxation  from  labor,  and 
to  gather  resources  for  the  entertainment 
and  instruction  of  his  people,  he  had  trav- 
eled the  world,  and  seen  edifices,  and  pic- 
tures, and  costumes,  and  his  perception  of  His  percep- 

re  i  •  t  t  •        •         i'on  °f 

effects  was  acute  and  unerring.  His  in-  effects. 
dorsement  of  the  style  of  a  house,  or  the 
beauty  of  a  landscape,  or  the  trimming  of 
a  gown,  was  assurance  of  grandeur,  or  har- 
mony, or  tastefulness.  His  ethics  in  the 
pulpit  and  aesthetics  in  the  drawing-room 
were  alike  acceptable  and  infallible.  De- 
grees of  future  happiness,  he  believed, 
would  be  determined  by  development. 
Bliss  was  only  relative.  Enjoyment,  as  a 
rule,  was  measured  by  capacity,  and  incon- 
gruity would  mar  heaven.  His  theory  of 
fitness  and  likes  solved  eternal  justice  and 
harmony. 

Ages  had  passed  since  clergymen  of  that  clergymen 
character  had  been  seen  in  the  pulpit.    Ex-  chakacter 

,  .  .    Extinct. 

tmct,  they  were  read  about  as  strange  curi- 
osities, and  the  people  were  amazed  at  the 
moral  standards  of  their  ancestors.  That 
the   materialities   had   governed    them    to 


44  Sub-Caium 

such  an  unlimited   extent  was  marvelous. 
a  religion    They  could  not  comprehend  that  a  religion 

of  Mammon.  .  ...... 

of  Mammon  had  ever  existed  in  their  fair 
land.  The  conditions  of  society  had  com- 
pletely changed,  and  their  views  of  wor- 
ship had  changed  with  them.  Wealth  be- 
ing diffused,  other  standards  of  excellence 
and  conduct  had  been  established.  Men 
who  counted  their  wealth  by  millions  were 
not  known  amongst  them.  Churches  were 
not  built  and  maintained  by  the  prosperous 
only.  One  class  was  as  conspicuous  in 
their  management  as  another,  and  each 
contributed  its  full  share  to  supporting 
them.  In  their  clergymen,  purity  above 
all  things  was  a  requisite.  The  preacher 
must  first  be  a  thoroughly  honest  man,  be- 
yond even  the  suspicion  of  duplicity  or  dis- 
simulation —  faithful  to  all  of  his  vows.  His 
relations  with  society  must  be  absolutely 
a  vkeger-    immaculate.     A  vicegerent  of  God,  he  was 

ento/God. 

not  tor  a  moment  to  forget  the  responsibil- 
ities of  his  office.  He  must  be  utterly  in- 
capable of  soothing  the  conscience  to  sleep 
by  noxious  sympathy  or  advice  ;  of  extenu- 
ating any  corrupting  desire ;  of  concealing 
any  wholesome  truth  ;  of  excusing  hypoc- 
risy in  any  of  its  multiplied  forms  ;  of  coun- 
tenancing philosophies    to    flatter  worldli- 


Educated  as  a  Physician  45 

ness  ;  of  confusing  worship  with  ceremony  ; 
of  courting  power,  or  forgetting  to  enforce 
its  accountability  ;   of  helping  to  degrade  integrity 

,        ,  r  ■    i   "oi  to  be  dc- 

integrity  to  the  standard  01  commercial  graded. 
honor  ;  of  exalting  money,  or  disregarding 
improper  means  of  obtaining  it  ;  of  encour- 
aging wine  and  denouncing  drunkenness  ; 
of  extolling  prodigality  and  deploring  bank- 
ruptcy ;  of  magnifying  costly  raiment  and 
bewailing  demoralization  ;  of  cautioning 
youth,  with  only  manhood,  against  mar- 
riage, and  warning  him  of  the  strange  wo- 
man ;  in  a  word,  he  was  continually  and 
persistently  to  set  his  face,  and  exert  the 
utmost  of  his  personal  and  official  influ- 
ence, against  everything  corrupting  or  de- 
grading to  man  or  woman.  Not  that  he  Not  that  he 
was  to  be  harsh  or  hard  to  any  human  harsh  or 
creature.  That  he  might  be  generous  in 
his  judgments,  and  sympathizing  towards 
weaknesses,  he  was  required  to  be  thor- 
oughly educated  as  a  physician  before  en- 
tering upon  his  sacerdotal  office.  Moral 
ailments  of  every  kind  would  present  them- 
selves to  him,  and  he  must  be  as  capable 
as  possible  of  treating  them.  To  account 
for  mental  diseases  he  must  know  bodily 
derangements.  Body  and  mind  were  to  be  Body  and 
considered  one  and  inseparable.     The  in- '"' 


46 


Sub-Coclum 


Standards 
of  conduct. 


The  good 
and  the  bad. 


Pitifully 
alike  in  the 
eye  of  the 
Maker. 


terdependence  was  not  to  be  forgotten. 
Inheritance  lessened  accountability :  the 
Maker  only  knew  to  what  extent.  The 
preacher  did  not  set  up  standards  of  con- 
duct unattainable  by  himself  or  any  of  his 
hearers.  He  did  not  turn  the  key  of  heaven 
against  himself  and  all  mankind.  He  did 
not  preach  an  empty  heaven.  He  believed 
that  no  man  was  so  bad  but  that  there 
might  be  some  good  in  him,  and  that  no 
man  was  so  good  but  that  he  might  be  bet- 
ter. The  differences  between  the  good  and 
the  bad,  which,  at  first  blush,  appeared  to 
him  so  great,  as  he  knew  more  of  man  and 
men  —  more  of  the  weaknesses  and  dis- 
tresses and  ignorances  of  his  fellows  — 
seemed  less  and  less  to  him  ;  and  he  re- 
flected how,  in  the  eye  of  the  Maker,  who 
knows  everything  of  every  one  of  His  crea- 
tures —  every  besetment  and  every  infirm- 
ity—  how  impossible,  with  all  his  efforts, 
to  accomplish  very  much  —  how  next  to 
impossible  to  use  at  all  his  imperfectly 
developed  wings — the  good  and  the  bad 
must  appear  pitifully  alike,  if  not  the  same. 
His  learning,  observation,  introspection, 
and  reflection  made  him  charitable.  His 
religion  was  love.  Hence  the  typical 
preacher  of  Sub-Ccelum. 


The  Devil's  Confessional  47 

Time  was,  too,  when  the  lawyer's  office  the  law- 
was  named  the  devil's  confessional.  What-  ficb. 
ever  it  was  in  fact,  the  low  tone  of  morals 
was  responsible  for  it.  The  long  continued 
universal  greediness  in  money-getting  had 
debauched  the  public  conscience,  until 
integrity  had  come  to  be  of  inconsiderable 
importance  in  the  market.  Lying  was 
excused  as  a  necessity.  Adulteration  was 
not  a  crime.  Duplicity  had  no  bad  name. 
Shrewdness  was  a  virtue.  Villainy  was 
not  such  when  it  succeeded.  Being  found 
out  was  the  dread  and  devil  of  the  popula- 
tion. Concealment  was  studied  as  a  refine- 
ment in  business,  and  craft  was  exalted  to  cm/tex- 
a  chief  place  with  wisdom.  Straightfor- 
ward ways  were  at  a  discount.  Honest 
poor  men  had  no  fair  chance.  In  the  com- 
binations they  were  left  out.  The  carcass 
was  appropriated,  leaving  only  the  bones. 
Vast  schemes  were  but  conspiracies,  — 
powerful  enough  to  suborn,  if  they  did  not 
crush.  Pettifoggers  of  every  grade  were 
their  instruments.  Rodents  sometimes  in 
their  processes  —  angels  of  light  at  others. 
Bold  enough  to  assault  or  corrupt  at  the  Bold  enough 
top,  base  enough  to  undermine  at  the  bot-  corrupt. 
torn.  Weaknesses  and  tastes  and  ambi- 
tions were  estimated  as  commodities,  and 


48  Sub-Caium 

prices  put  upon  them.  Great  interests  at 
stake,  equivalents  corresponded,  in  money 
or  advancement.  Great  attorneys  were 
Mean  and  found  to  employ  mean  and  bold  arts  in 
high  places.  If  they  failed  at  one  time 
they  waited  for  a  better.  A  new  trial 
was  had,  and  the  indispensable  testimony 
was  supplied.  The  courts  being  reputed 
corrupt,  corrupters  had  full  employment. 
Honest  lawyers  were  forced  to  low  fees  and 
a  low  station.  The  determination  to  do 
right  consigned  them  to  poverty.  Judges 
were  welcomed  in  disreputable  and  doubt- 
ful places.  They  were  shown  the  way  to 
great  bargains.  They  enjoyed  the  chances 
of  great  gain  without  pecuniary  risk.  They 
were  in  the  councils  of  conspirators.  They 
sailed  the  dizzying  maelstrom  of  fashion, 
and  moved  omnipotently  in  the  mysteries 
of  markets  and  corporations. 

a  turn  was  These  things  could  not  continue  and 
slowElyBUT  society  exist.  A  turn  was  made,  but 
slowly.  The  flesh  was  ready  to  fall  off  the 
bones.  Constitutional  remedies  were  ap- 
plied. Little  by  little  the  moral  sense  was 
elevated.  Eyes  were  gradually  opened  to 
the  danger.  New  standards  were  set  up. 
Reformation  beo-an  at  the  bottom  —  the 


Mammon  Dethroned  4g 


foundation  of  the  social  structure  —  and 
worked  upward  as  the  corrupted  tissues 
would  bear.     Better  blood  came  with  bet-  Better  Mood 

,  _,         .  r  t     i  •     1  •  with  better 

ter  morals.  Conduct  found  higher  aims,  morals. 
Money  was  no  longer  the  standard  of 
excellence,  nor  wealth  the  omnipotent  dis- 
tinction. Intellect  and  purity  no  longer 
submitted  to  be  graded,  averaged,  and 
appropriated.  The  virtues  were  at  a  pre- 
mium. Honest  poverty  ranked  with  com- 
fortable competency.  Mammon  was  de- 
throned, and  not  a  god.  All  this  did  get 
done,  but  it  took  ages  to  do  it.  The  devil 
fought  desperately  for  his  advantages,  but 
was  routed,  in  person,  —  his  creatures  re- 
maining in  the  trenches  to  make  a  show 
of  resistance  to  virtue  ever  and  ever.  The 
corrupt  judges  had  to  go,  with  the  hypo- 
critical priests.  They  died  hard,  but  they 
died  dead.  Intrenched  as  they  were  by 
their  evil  practices,  society  at  large  felt  a 
throe  of  relief  at  their  final  discomfiture, 
notwithstanding  the  many  who  suffered  by 
it  in  their  interests  and  occupations.  The  The  vice  of 
vice  of  courts  had  poisoned  the  streams  of 
trade  to  such  an  extent  that  traders  traded 
with  vicious  impunity,  confident,  if  found 
out,  that  the  same  vicious  means  would 
save  them  from  disgrace,  if  not  from  punish- 


<jo  Sub-Coclum 

The  price  of  mox\t.     The  price  of  protection  was  graded 

protection.  .  . 

to  every  depth  or  purse.  1  he  petty  thief 
felt  as  secure  as  the  great  swindler.  For 
a  consideration  the  jury  could  be  made  to 
please  him.  His  attorney  would  attend  to 
that  as  to  everything  indispensable.  All 
was  made  easy  to  him  by  the  laws,  framed 
by  lawyers — they  seemed  indeed  to  have 
been  made  for  his  special  protection. 

effects  of  When  the  change  began  in  the  public 
change,  morals,  attorneys  became  more  or  less 
objects  of  suspicion.  In  time,  it  became 
possible  to  disbar  them  for  dishonest  prac- 
tices. Before  being  admitted  to  practice, 
their  characters  were  scrutinizingly  exam- 
ined—  integrity  being  held  of  greater  im- 
portance than  legal  learning.  Conversa- 
tions with  judges  about  cases,  outside  of 
courts,  ceased  to  be  common.  Every  word 
addressed  to  a  judge  by  suitor  or  attorney 
must  be  in  open  session,  —  in  a  voice  to  be 
heard  by  every  bystander.  A  violation  of 
this  rule  was  an  offense  against  the  dignity 
of  justice,  and  was  punishable.  Desire  to 
be  a  juror  was  proof  of  incompetency.  No 
intelligence  panel  was  completed  without  inquiry  as  to 
ILted™  that ;  nor  was  intelligence  discriminated 
against.    Lawyers  were  no  longer  preferred 


The  Judiciary  51 

for  lawmakers  ;  when  chosen  to  legisla- 
tive assemblies,  they  were  of  conspicuously 
high  character.  The  judiciary  was  jealously  judges 
guarded.  Judges  were  elected  for  long  pe-  eiongperZds. 
riods.  Solicitation  disqualified  them,  even 
for  being  candidates.  Names  of  persons 
suggested  for  judicial  offices  were  published 
for  a  time  in  separate  lists,  and  each  one 
was  carefully  canvassed  by  the  public.  If 
any  serious  moral  defect  was  discovered, 
the  possessor  of  it  was  declared  ineligible, 
and  unfit  to  be  voted  for.  Legal  ability 
was  duly  considered,  but  not  to  the  same 
extent  as  personal  incorruptibility.  The 
trouble  with  society  had  been  that  in  a 
general  way  too  great  a  disproportion  had 
existed  between  those  intelligent  enough 
for  places  of  trust  and  those  possessing 
the  essential  moral  qualities.    Honesty  and  Honesty  and 

.  1  .  purity  pre- 

punty,  consequently,  came  to  be  necessary  requisites. 
and  absolute  prerequisites  to  the  judicial 
office.     Judges  must  be  non-residents  ;  in  1 
other  words,  they  were  required  to  sit  inj 
districts  other  than  those   in   which  they' 
were  elected.     The  population  would  not 
tolerate     resident     judges.      They    were 
thought  to  be  too  familiar  with  the  people 
and  their  affairs,  and  apt  to  be  warped  in 
their  judgments.    Strangers  were  preferred, 


Strangers 
preferred. 


5* 


Sub-Gxhim 


who  knew  nothing  of  society  or  its  influ- 
ences. From  their  places  on  the  bench 
they  did  not  look  down  upon  suitors  whom 
they  knew  intimately,  and  whose  interests 
they  could  scarcely  judge  of  impartially. 
Only  blind  Justice  could  hold  the  scales 
evenly  ;  Mercy  was  an  independent  power, 
and  must  be  consulted  apart.  At  that 
court,  eyes  and  ears  were  ever  open  to  the 
tears  and  appeals  of  humanity. 


Arbitra- 
tion. 


Scope  and 
freedom 
allowed. 


By  arbitration  was  a  favorite  mode  of 
adjusting  most  of  their  difficulties.  Ad- 
justment being  necessary,  the  most  direct 
way  to  it  was  chosen.  Advantages  were 
gained  by  it.  Delay  was  avoided  and  ex- 
pense saved.  Anxiety  was  reduced  to  the 
minimum.  Time  was  not  allowed  to  deepen 
distrust  into  hatred.  The  peace  of  society 
depended  upon  the  promptness  and  thor- 
oughness with  which  differences  were  set- 
tled. Business  difficulties  were  adjusted 
by  business  men.  Parties  tried  their  own 
cases.  If  the  laws  of  evidence  were  some- 
times relaxed  or  overlooked,  it  was  to  give 
those  most  interested  greater  opportunities 
to  show  themselves.  In  the  scope  and 
freedom  allowed,  arbitrators  saw  behind 
the  faces  of  transactions  and  suitors.    Igno- 


Public  Advisers  53 

ranee  was  enlightened  and  malice  disarmed 
by  the  clash  of  interests  and  passions.  Mo- 
tives dropped  their  disguises,  and  truth  was 
conspicuous.  Unconsciously,  often,  the 
sources  of  trouble  were  exposed  in  a  way 
to  make  adjustment  easy  and  unquestion- 
able. 

Advice  offices,  here  and  there,  through-  advice 
out  society,  were  established.  There  was 
use  for  them,  and  they  were  freely  used 
by  the  people.  They  were  sanctioned  and 
protected  as  were  other  places  of  business. 
Men  of  good  sense  and  of  good  health 
were  the  counselors  —  astute  of  observa- 
tion, and  sagacious  in  the  ways  of  the 
world.  Stupid  people,  and  people  of  ques- 
tionable character,  were  not  tolerated  in 
the  office.  Advisers  were  generally  well- 
to-do  persons,  and  charitably  disposed. 
To  relieve  and  help  in  common  extremities 
was  their  sworn  duty.     Fees  were  entirely  Fees 

1  a  r  ■%'•    voluntary 

voluntary.  A  misuse  of  the  generous  li- 
cense given  them  was  visited  with  prompt 
condemnation  by  the  public.  The  office 
of  a  public  adviser  was  held  in  sacredness 
next  to  the  cloister  of  a  priest.  Poor  men 
and  women  who  did  not  see  their  way 
clear  to  invade  the  latter  were  accommo- 


54 


Sub-Ccclum 


Industry 
inculcated, 
and 
frugality. 


dated  in  the  former.  They  were  shown 
the  way  out  of  ordinary  trouble,  and  en- 
couraged to  better  progress.  They  were 
warned  of  the  consequences  of  evil  habits. 
Industry  was  inculcated,  and  frugality. 
Self-dependence  was  impressed  upon  them. 
The  pleasure  of  vice  and  pain  of  virtue 
were  set  down  to  ignorance.  If  their 
troubles  were  of  a  business  nature,  they 
were  advised  to  arbitrate  them.  If  a  dis- 
eased condition  of  body  or  mind  showed 
itself,  they  were  recommended  to  the  phy- 
sician. All  who  came  were  encouraged  to 
attend  the  Public  Schools  of  Morals,  and 
be  taught  the  foundations  of  good  conduct. 
The  clergyman  was  recommended,  or  the 
priest,  in  peculiar  distresses  of  the  soul. 


Laws  few 

IN  SUB- 
CCELU.M. 


Laws  were  few  in  Sub-Coelum.  Such  as 
existed  were  necessary,  and  were  strictly 
enforced.  Their  book  of  statutes  was  com- 
paratively a  diminutive  volume,  and  there 
was  not  a  dead  one  in  it.  The  people  did 
not  need  to  be  much  governed  —  in  the 
main,  they  governed  themselves.  Expe- 
rience had  taught  them  that  laws  easily 
executed  were  hardly  necessary,  and  that 
those  which  could  not  be  enforced  were 
worse   than   useless  —  they  were  vicious. 


Self-Enacted  and  Inevitable  55 

Such  legislation  as  was  indispensable  was, 
in  a  sense,  self-enacted  and  inevitable;  — 
in  other  words,  was  so  generally  required 
as  scarcely  to  be  disapproved.  Before  en- 
acting a  law,  lawmakers   inquired,  Can   it  Law. 

•  1  r  •     ■»  makers' 

be  enforced  ?  Is  society  ready  tor  it  f  inquiries. 
They  did  not  think  that  men  could  be  made 
temperate  and  virtuous,  or  women  chaste, 
by  statute.  Moral  power  was  considered 
a  better  force  than  the  most  efficient  con- 
stabulary. The  disposition  or  desire  to  do 
wrong  was  before  all  prohibitory  enactment. 
If  that  existed  generally,  a  small  minority 
were  powerless  to  punish  its  consequences. 
Penal  legislation,  with  that  view,  was  not 
difficult  —  it  was  but  the  spontaneous  ex- 
pression of  the  multitude.  The  difficulty 
had  been  that  Government  had  attempted 
the  impossible  —  making  itself  ridiculous 
by  empiricism.     The  people  became  weary  Weary  of 

r  i  •  e       n       rr  chimerical 

or  chimerical  experiments  —  ot  all  ertorts  expert. 

.        ments. 

to  adapt  them  to  imaginary,  super-celestial 
conditions.  They  were  not  to  be  made 
over  violently.  The  tiger's  tooth  was  not 
to  be  eliminated  in  a  generation  ;  the  slow 
processes  of  breeding  and  gentleness  could 
only  be  counted  upon  in  anything  so  radi- 
cal. The  habit  of  resisting  evil  was  found 
better   than   all    threatened    reformation. 


56  Sub-Coclum 

For  thousands  of  ages  Sub-Coelum  had 
been  a  part  of  the  inhabited  universe,  and 
had  grown  to  be  what  it  was  by  the  slow- 
The  daw  est  progress.  The  claw  was  yet  in  the  soft 
Zftpaw.  paw,  and  was  not  to  be  torn  away  forcibly. 
Savagery  was  not  out  of  sight  in  their  civ- 
ilization. Their  laws  were  mostly  to  assist 
voluntary  efforts  in  right  directions.  To 
aid,  and  not  to  compel,  was  their  prime 
object.  The  edifice  of  their  polity  was  of 
composite  construction,  wherein  by  degrees 
were  appropriated  and  incorporated  such 
elements  as  had  been  proven  necessary  to 
the  safety  and  permanency  of  the  struc- 
ture. Ages  had  gone  by  since  the  people 
had  tolerated  empiricism  or  charlatanry  in 
government.  They  would  not  be  tinkered 
with  or  unduly  agitated.  Repose  they  es- 
teemed a  prerequisite  to  healthy  growth. 
They  discouraged  the  spasmodic,  and  were 
not  ambitious  of  an  interesting  history. 
Health  and  genuineness  and  purity,  in 
their  judgment,  were  not  turbulent  or  the- 
atrical attributes.  The  universe  made  no 
noise. 


special  Special  reformers  were  not  in  favor ;  in- 

Reformers      ■■  ,  ,  r  r        ,  (-. 

not  in        deed,  there   were  few  of    them.     Society 

Favor. 

was   so  individualized  that   there  did   not 


Diseased  in  Some  Way  57 

seem  to  be  use  for  them.  Such  as  there 
were,  for  one  reason  or  another,  were  dis- 
trusted. It  was  observed  that  too  often 
the  evil  they  meant  to  correct  was  more  in 
themselves  than  in  others.  In  some  way, 
from  some  cause,  they  were  diseased,  and 
the  reforming  spirit  was  a  result  of  their  The  reform. 
condition.     Healthy  persons   did   not  ex-  "eiuuo/  " 

.....  _      .  ,  ,  ,        .  their  condi- 

hibit  it.  Only  where  the  body  was  pecu-  tum. 
liarly  afflicted,  deficient,  or  deformed,  or 
the  mind  had  lost  its  nice  balance,  was  this 
uneasy  tendency  inclined  to  show  itself 
conspicuously.  Reasoning  from  the  spe- 
cial to  the  general,  they  concluded  all  to  be 
in  their  own  condition.  The  morbidity  or 
painful  self-consciousness  that  distressed 
themselves  they  believed  to  be  pervading. 
The  common  effect  was  to  excite  pity  in 
the  sound  of  mind   and  body,  and  to  sug-  suggesting 

.1  .  r  ....  guardian- 

gest  the  propriety  of  guardianship  over  ship. 
them.  Narrower  and  narrower  they  be- 
came as  they  traversed  their  remorselessly 
strait  and  ever -narrowing  path.  Their 
own  standards  must  be  the  standards  of 
the  universe  or  the  universe  was  all  wrong. 
As  Philosophy  said,  they  neglected  their 
own  fields,  and  went  to  weed  the  fields  of 
others.  Also,  that  Virtue  did  not  take 
pupils ;  she  contented  herself  with  sowing 


5<5  Sub-Coclum 

Goodness  the  seeds  of  goodness,  certain  that  expe- 
ence.  ''  rience  would  make  them  grow.  It  was 
observed  that  where  a  disagreeable  or 
unsightly  deformity  existed  in  the  body, 
an  answering  one  was  apt  to  show  itself 
in  the  character  or  spirit.  Perpetual  con- 
sciousness of  it  occasioned  diseased  sensi- 
bility, and  excited  a  feeling  of  separation 
if  not  antagonism.  Never  forgetting  it  for 
a  moment,  they  naturally  misapprehended 
everybody  about  them. 

effect  The    pervading    individuality,    as    said 

pervading  before,    made    men   distrustful   of   radical 

Individual-  .  . 

ity.  reformers,    as     introspection    made   them 

wisely  observant  and  generous.  It  did 
not  incline  them  to  make  others  over,  or 
to  have  it  done.  Self-reformation  was  a 
natural  effect  of  it  —  the  kind  they  thought 
to  be,  of  all  others,  the  most  genuine  and 
permanent.  It  led  to  special  investigation 
rather  than  to  general  reformation.  It 
disinclined  them  to  be  organized  into 
parties  —  to   be  merged  into  multitudes. 

They  moved  When  they  moved,  they  moved  not  exactly 

not  in  mobs.    •  i  T  i         i  •     "  i 

in  mobs.  Leadership  was  temporary,  and 
only  when  necessary.  Then,  they  did  not 
follow  as  sheep.  They  did  not  study  to 
conceal  their  personal  traits  ;  only  to  train 


A  King  Each  One  $q 

them  to  usefulness  and  agreeableness. 
They  were  not  made  to  bore,  to  offend, 
or  to  bully,  but  to  make  the  possessor  of 
them  more  interesting  and  serviceable. 
Their  language  was  not  for  concealment  Laneu  xge 

.  _,  not  for  con- 

but  for  expression.  They  meant  that  what-  ceaiment. 
ever  was  peculiar  in  their  nature  should 
not  be  hidden,  but  laid  open,  and  turned  to 
account.  A  certain  sacredness  was  made 
to  attach  to  it  accordingly,  as  contradis- 
tinguishing each  individual.  He  was  made 
to  do  something,  and  to  do  it  better  than 
could  any  other.  Men  were  not  so  much 
mysteries  to  each  other  as  wonders.  Each 
one  stood  forth  a  man,  different  from  all 
other  men.  Recognition  begot  respect. 
Men  were  not  to  be  compounded  or  melted 
into  masses.  A  king  each  one,  he  was  re- 
spected in  his  sovereignty  —  over  himself. 

Their  police  system  was  inseparable  from  Thbir 
their    society  as    organized.     It   pervaded  system. 
and   permeated    every  part  of   it.     Every 
individual  and  family  and  organization  was 
exposed  to  it.     In  truth,  there  was  little  of 
what  might  be  called  private  life  in  the 
entire  Commonwealth.     The  habits  of  the  | 
people  discouraged  if  they  did  not  forbid  1 1 
privacy.     Their  remarkable  individualism, 


60  Sub-Coclum 

ingenuousness,    and   perception  —  almost 

prescience  —  revealed    all    and    saw   all. 

Mind  and ,   Mind  and   conduct    reading   had    reached 

conduct       I     ,  .  ..     . 

reading.  >  such  perfection  that  wrong-doing  was 
nearly  impossible.  Blinds  at  doors  and 
windows  were  not  so  much  to  elude  obser- 
vation as  to  exclude  and  regulate  the  light. 
Language,  as  before  stated,  was  for  expres- 
sion, not  for  concealment  or  dissimulation. 
Masks  of  any  sort  only  invited  inspection. 
Faculties  were  sharpened  by  them  to  mi- 
croscopic accuracy.     Utmost  apparent  can- 

Motive.       dor  was  often  more  deceptive,  as  motive- 

mongers  in  . 

m-refiute.  mongers,  in  the  ordinary  way,  were  in 
ill-repute.  People  were  expected  to  be 
truthful.  Falsehood  was  in  violation  of  all 
their  training.  Truth  was  at  the  basis  of 
their  practical  religion.  Their  morals  re- 
acted on  their  bodies.  They  lived  to  great 
age  in  consequence.  By  the  mere  power  of 
enlightened  will  it  seemed  they  lived  or 
died  at  pleasure.  Disease  was  prevented 
by  foresight,  inoculation,  or  vaccination. 
Parents,  when  they  punished  their  children, 
were  particular  at  the  same  time  to  punish 

The  fatality  themselves  ;  —  recognizing  the   fatality  of 

of  heredity.  ...... 

heredity  —  the  responsibility  of  paternity 
—  that  the  child  did  not  beget  itself.  Only 
murder  was  punishable  by  death.     Breach 


Means  of  Protection  61 

of  trust,  ranking  next  in  criminality,  was 
punished  with  great  severity.  For  third 
offenses,  of  any  serious  character,  impris-  Penaty 
onment  for  life  was  the  penalty,  that  offenses. 
society  might  be  protected,  and  children 
be  not  begotten  by  incorrigible  criminals. 
The  sins  of  lust  were  especially  punished, 
as  being  radically  demoralizing.  The  face 
of  meretriciousness  was  not  only  a  warning 
to  the  police ;  it  was  sadly  shocking  to  de- 
cency and  the  moral  sense  ;  and  admon- 
ished special  guardians  of  the  social  super- 
structure to  look  well  to  the  foundations. 
Purity,  of  all  things,  was  most  jealously  Ariiy 

,      ,  ,-»-,,  .  •     -i  i         •  jealously 

guarded.      The  incorrigibly   impure  were  gi«irded. 
locked  up  forever.     Men  and  women,  as  to 
that,  were  treated  alike  by  the  police  and 
by  the  courts.     If  society  was  to  continue 
to  exist,  and  grow  in  essential  excellence, 
chastity  must  be  increasingly  recognized 
as  the  crowning  virtue.     Education,  expe- 
rience, hope,  all  inculcated  it.     The  regu- 
lations of  society  were  such  that  many  op- 
portunities for  crime  did  not  exist.     The  The  bad 
bad  were  found  out,  and  thwarted  in  their  cut. 
evil  purposes.    Persons  removing  from  one 
part  of  the  country  to   another  were  re- 
quired publicly  to  announce  and  register 
the  same,  with   the  causes  thereof ;    and 


62 


Sub-Caium 


abode. 


those  removing  into  a  new  community 
were  also  required  to  state  and  record  in 
the  same  public  manner  the  cause  or  causes 
change  o/  which  prompted  their  change  of  abode  ;  at 
the  same  time  and  in  the  same  way,  to 
give  a  history  of  themselves  —  their  occu- 
pations, purposes,  circumstances  —  every- 
thing, in  fact,  in  which  the  people  were 
understood  to  be  interested.  As  little  as 
possible  was  left  to  curiosity  or  doubt. 
Men  and  women  were  known  and  read  by 
all.  Places  in  society,  in  a  measure,  were 
self-assigned.  It  was  not  possible  for  any 
one  to  be  far  deceived.  Self-regulation 
was  a  large  part  of  the  business  of  society. 
Police  officers  had  little  to  do  :  about  all 
was  done  for  them.  Personality  and  con- 
duct stood  out  so  conspicuously  and  sig- 
nificantly as  to  make  official  interference 
only  occasionally  necessary. 


Estates 
Limited. 


Estates  were  generally  small  in  Sub-Cce- 
lum.  Great  wealth  was  not  considered  de- 
sirable, and  was  discouraged  by  the  popu- 
lation in  every  way  that  was  proper  and 
neighborly.  It  gave  distinction  not  in 
harmony  with  their  established  system  of 
government.  Only  the  utmost  equality 
was   thought   to   be  consistent  with  pure 


Responsibility  of  Prosperity  6) 

democracy.  This  central  principle  was 
never  lost  sight  of  in  all  their  legislation 
and  social  regulations.  The  spirit  of  agra- 
rianism  did  not  show  itself  amongst  them  : 
their  singular  integrity  repressed  it.  Pub-  The  burden 
lie  opinion  rather  than  the  law  fixed  the  erty. 
burden  upon  property  worthily,  and  rich 
people  realized  and  accepted  it.  It  was 
but  the  price  and  responsibility  of  pros- 
perity. Beyond  a  certain  limit  they  were 
taught  to  hold  their  property  in  trust  for 
the  benefit  of  the  public,  and  of  individuals 
less  prosperous  than  themselves.  They 
distinguished  themselves  by  their  generos- 
ity. Their  benefactions  made  them  popu- 
lar as  well  as  famous.  Hospitals  were  built 
by  them.  They  busied  themselves  quietly 
in  searching  out  misfortune  and  relieving 
it.  They  made  humanity  and  self-sacri-  Humanity 
fice  fashionable,  but  not  ostentatiously  so.  sacrifice 
The  good  they  did  was  by  few  words,  and 
not  by  formal  announcement.  It  showed 
itself  rather  in  results.  Wealth  did  not 
array  itself  offensively  to  simple  livers. 
Socially,  it  kept  within  the  average.  Their 
banquets  were  not  insulting  in  their  splen- 
dor. They  did  not  endanger  pedestrians 
with  their  hurrying  equipages.  Their  ad- 
vantages were  not  aggressive.     It  appeared 


64  Sub-Ccelutii 

a  noble  thing  to  enjoy  opulence  in  a  right 

way.     Envy  was  not  disturbed  nor  hatred 

awakened  by  its  privileges  and  pleasures. 

The  virtues  The  virtues  were  common  possessions,  and 

common  .  .  . 

possesses,  disported  themselves,  in  a  sense,  in  palaces 
as  in  cottages.  Money,  in  itself,  did  not 
give  honorable  celebrity.  Distinctions  of 
God  gave  greatest  prominence  and  emi- 
nence. A  man  might  be  great,  without 
skill  to  advance  himself,  or  cash  to  help 
his  fellow.  The  riches  of  heart  and  intel- 
lect enjoyed  just  estimation. 

property        The  property  of  all,  however  —  the  prop- 

in  Friends.  .  . 

erty  that  ranked  highest  —  was  the  inesti- 
mable property  in  friends.  The  man  en- 
joying the  greatest  number  of  good  ties 
was  the  man  supremely  rich.  His  riches 
were  above  and  beyond  robbery.  His 
friends  were  wealth  imperishable,  while  he 
deserved  them.  The  common  ambition  to 
possess  this  incomparable  wealth  had  a 
stimulating  and  exalting  influence.  It  was 
property  within  the  reach  of  all,  and  a  dis- 
paragement not  to  possess  it.  The  signifi- 
cance of  friendlessness  was  duly  estimated. 
It  meant  unworthiness,  and  a  lack  of  the 
genuine  virtues  of  humanity.  Courage  was 
wanting,  and  fidelity.     To  have  no  friends 


Significance  of  FrienJlessness         65 

was  not  to  deserve  them,  and  the  situation 
was  pitiable.  Utter  selfishness  or  degrada-  seifishnen 
tion  only  accounted  for  it.  If  the  creature  tumaccmut. 
had  done  any  generous  thing,  the  benefici- 
ary would  have  adhered  to  him.  If  he  had 
divided  his  loaf,  the  satisfied  appetite  would 
have  kept  him  in  remembrance.  If  he  had 
shown  a  poor  man  out  of  his  extremity, 
the  happy  relieved  fellow  would  have  given 
him  his  heart.  If  he  had  been  kind  to 
children,  he  would  have  enjoyed  an  ever- 
increasing  harvest  of  good  wishes.  If  the 
old  and  the  feeble  had  been  helped  by  him, 
his  ears  would  have  been  filled  with  their 
benedictions.  If  poor  woman,  with  all  her 
troubles,  and  his  own  too,  had  been  met 
more  than  half  way  by  his  sympathy  and 
tenderness,  a  friendship  immortal  would 
have  attached  to  him  inseparably.  To 
have  no  friends  was  destitution  indeed  ; 
but  to  deserve  a  multitude  of  them  was  to 
enjoy  riches  incomputable  and  imperish- 
able. Such  standards  of  wealth  and  worth 
were  the  result  of  experience  and  every 
test,  and  were  fixed  and  irreversible. 


Labor  was  so  honored  that  sheer  idle-  idleness 

,.  .      ,    ,  -,-.  DlSKEPU- 

ness  was  disreputable.     Every  one  was  ex-  table. 
pected  to  have  something  creditable  to  do, 


66  Sab-Caiiim 

and  to  do  it.  Children  were  brought  up 
to  pursue  some  avocation,  or  cultivate  some 
occupation  taste.  Occupation  was  considered  an  in- 
']"a'u duty"'  dispensable  duty  in  the  social  man.  An 
absolutely  idle  citizen  was  but  one  remove 
from  a  knave.  To  work  with  his  own 
hands  was  not  only  the  duty  but  the  pride 
of  every  capable  person  ;  and  prejudices 
which  despised  labor  were  positively  un- 
known. Business  descended  from  father 
to  son,  and  perfection  was  attained  in  every 
branch  of  it.  It  was  found  that  a  man  was 
a  better  bootmaker  from  having  descended 
through  a  long  line  of  bootmakers.  The 
feet  of  one  in  the  care  of  such  an  artist 
were  insensibly  comfortable.  His  brain 
was  not  racked  nor  his  nerves  tortured  by 
a  distressing  localization  of  his  sensibility. 
Happier,  too,  was  the  artist  or  artisan  from 
perfectly  understanding  his  occupation ; 
and  he  was  esteemed  accordingly.  A  bet- 
ter feeling  was  established  in  life  by  expe- 
rience of  its  utilities.  Jealousies  and  en- 
vies and  hatreds  were  restrained  by  it. 
Fraternity  was  made  easy,  and  fellowship 
possible.  Manhood  was  helped  upward  by 
Mere  living  it,  and   ennobled.      Mere   living  was   not 

not  a  worthy  .  .  r 

objectofiife.  considered  a  worthy  object  of  life.     True 
life  was  above  the  means  which  sustained 


Earned  Leisure  Most  Relished         6j 

it.  Equanimity  had  an  eye  to  results  be- 
yond the  moment.  Only  the  beasts  that 
perish  were  contented  to  be  merely  fed. 
The  nervous  tread  of  a  true  man  meant  Thenervom 

.  iii       tread  of  a 

more  than  movement;  it  betrayed  absorb-  true  man. 
ment,  and  looked  to  an  end  worth  attain- 
ing. Idleness  had  every  gait,  and  none 
long.  Whim  changed  it.  Nothing  to  do 
was  held  to  be  the  worst  want  of  nature, 
and  the  most  exhausting.  It  tested  se- 
verely mind  and  morals.  Ennui  was  weari- 
ness which  had  nothing  to  show  :  the  tired 
hodman  counted  the  courses  in  the  wall. 
Languor  pressed  its  nose  against  the  pane, 
and  dreamily  questioned  the  vitality  it 
mused  on  and  envied.  Earned  leisure  was 
most  relished.  Pure  joy  was  a  costly  arti- 
cle. A  little  time  for  pleasure  was  pre- 
cious ;  time  for  nothing  else  was  burden- 
some. 

Time  was,  even  in  Sub-Ccelum,  when  indolence 
men  generally  were  as  indolent  as  they 
could  afford  to  be.  Unless  compelled,  they 
did  little  which  was  useful.  Only  now  and 
then  a  high  nature  was  created  which 
worked  from  love,  and  was  content  with  a 
tithe  of  the  harvest.  Nine  parts  to  man- 
kind was  a  generous  division,  and  only  a 


68  Sub-Ccelum 

great  soul  would  spare  so  much.  To  such 
it  was  not  sacrifice ;  his  return  was  in  mul- 
tiplied blessings.  Exemption  from  useful 
labor  was  the  ambition  or  boast  of  nearly 
rrijiing/or  all.  Trifling  for  selfish  ends  was  therefore 
the  business  of  most  of  those  who  could 
confine  themselves  to  voluntary  effort. 
They  were  perverted  by  a  misuse  of  means. 
They  relied  upon  the  adventitious,  till  the 
natural,  intrinsic  resources  denied  them 
service.  They  went  out  of  themselves  for 
pleasure,  and  returned  to  find  themselves 
empty.  They  built  palaces,  and  existed  in 
them  the  victims  of  ceremony  and  ser- 
vants. They  bought  books  to  adorn  libra- 
ries, which  satirized  them.  They  bought 
musical  instruments  as  ambitious  orna- 
ments, and  patronized  the  opera.  They 
educated  their  daughters  expensively,  and 
saw  them  accept  impertinence  and  imbe- 
cility for  escorts  and  husbands.  Their 
sons  in-  sons  were  indulged  and  pampered,  till 
pampered,  amusements  were  exhausted  and  occupa- 
tion was  purchased  to  keep  them  respecta- 
ble. They  rode  in  carriages  so  conspicu- 
ously elegant  as  to  make  them  sacrifice 
comfort  to  propriety.  Their  horses  repre- 
sented so  much  capital  that  the  weather 
and   their   health    were    consulted    before 


Artificialities  and  their  Effects        6g 

using  them.  Their  acquaintances  were 
esteemed  for  the  rank  they  had  and  gave. 
Their  houses  were  heated  by  furnaces  to 
insure  uniform  temperature,  and  day  and 
night  they  inhaled  a  baked  atmosphere, 
and   wondered    at    disturbed    respiration.  Disturbed 

-,-,.  iiiii  •  respiration. 

Pipes  conducted  cold  and  warm  water  into 
chambers  and  kitchen,  and  they  took  poi- 
son in  all  that  they  drank  and  ate,  and 
were  surprised  by  palsy  and  an  increase  of 
nervous  disorders.  The  wine-cellar,  meant 
to  be  a  depository  of  luxuries,  became  a 
resource  against  wasting  vitality.  The 
laugh  of  the  fields  and  the  streets  was  re- 
produced in  ghastly  caricature  behind  the 
parti-colored  goblets.  A  joke  upon  the 
high  price  of  bread  redeemed  a  dullard, 
and  the  whole  table  from  dullness.  The 
children  were  cared  for  by  nurses,  and 
their  natures  modified  by  restraints  and 
drugs,  till  feebleness  and  pitiful  cries  iden- 
tified them.  The  doctor's  visits  were  as  in- 
dispensable as  the  baker's  or  hairdresser's, 
and  the  household  ate  as  they  dosed,  by  Ate  and 
prescription.  The  priest  dropped  in  to  scription. 
solace  the  moments  between  drugging  and 
dressing.  Life  was  taken  up  by  the  end- 
less round  of  artificialities  and  their  effects, 
till  the  struggles  and  wants  of  those  they 


yo  Sub-Caium 

deplored  compared  with  them  as  blessings. 
Their  civilization  at  its  worst,  they  slowly 
discovered  that  the  inspiration  of  work 
was  the  spirit  of  life  :  that  bread  for  the 
Ambrosia  body,  earned  by  exertion,  was  ambrosia 
' '  for  the  soul.  Sweet  for  the  sweat  it  cost, 
it  was  sweeter  for  the  promise  it  gave.  It 
satisfied  the  appetite,  but  not  the  longing 
insatiable.  The  little  feast  was  but  a  fore- 
taste of  fruition.  The  sickly  atmosphere 
of  affluence,  tempered  to  tender  throats  and 
low  enunciation,  was  gathered  from  cellars 
bordered  by  sewers,  and  choked  a  healthy 
nature,  exhausted  and  exhaustive  by  exer- 
tion. The  great  lungs  of  outdoor  labor 
inspired  the  upper  air  of  heaven,  and  panted 
for  inspirations  from  its  source.  To-mor- 
row, on  the  way  with  the  sun,  would  de- 
mand a  full  day's  service,  which  to-day's 
fidelity  must  assure.  To-morrow  and  to- 
morrow, and  then  the  day  supernal,  long 
enough  for  any  longing,  an  unending  har- 
Making  and  vest  and  holiday.  They  realized  that  mak- 
mmwf  ing  money  and  earning  it  were  different. 
Earning  it  was  a  reality  ;  making  it  a  fic- 
tion. Money  made  money  ;  labor  earned 
it.  Bonds,  proverbially,  like  infants,  did 
best  by  sleeping ;  labor  was  obliged  to  be 
awake,  and  faithful.     A  dollar,  for  a  day  in 


Worse  than  Want  7/ 

the  sun,  was  precious  ;  a  dollar,  got  in  the 
dark,  which  could  not  be  accounted  for, 
was  worse  than  want.  Knotted  hands  told 
of  the  one  ;  nimble  fingers  or  nothing  told 
of  the  other. 

These  views  and  activities  developed  Manhood 
manhood  and  personal  freedom.  Creature-  sonalFrbe- 
comforts,  more  than  were  wholesome,  were 
regarded  with  suspicion.  In  their  simple 
philosophy,  they  were  the  lap  of  Delilah. 
They  emasculated  and  smothered.  Manli- 
ness, the  thing  every  man  should  stand  for, 
grew  without  them.  Strong  roots  were 
made  by  strong  winds.  Careful  culture 
and  supports  gave  symmetry  to  the  shrub 
in  the  conservatory,  but  the  oak  of  com- 
merce grew  alone,  amid  storms.  To  the 
rude  soil  and  the  tempest  it  owed  its 
texture,  and  it  would  bear  the  tests  of  the 
seas.  They  had  seen  how  the  branches  of 
trees  by  the  coast  or  on  the  mountain  were 
sometimes  forced  by  the  merciless  winds 
to  grow  one  way  ;  but  the  willful  roots 
combined  defiantly  and  forced  themselves 
another.  Character  was  so  much  resist-  character. 
ance  and  endurance.  They  esteemed  it  a 
poor  and  disgraceful  thing,  not  to  be  able  to 
reply,  with  some  degree  of  certainty,  to  the 


72 


Sub-Ccelitm 


simple  questions,  What  will  you  be  ?  What 
will  you  do  ?  To  cut  the  cable  and  launch 
away  from  conventional  restraints  and 
ne  aspira-  helps  was  the  aspiration  of  every  worthy 
w^-thjman.  man  at  some  time  in  his  life.  His  individu- 
ality felt  fettered  and  shorn.  Before  he 
consented  to  surrender  and  be  subordinate, 
he  aspired  to  be  tried  by  trusts,  perils,  and 
calamities.  He  had  decided  the  fox  lucky 
that  left  his  tail  in  the  trap.  The  muskrat, 
he  had  observed,  would  gnaw  his  third  leg 
off  to  be  free.  Native  manhood  was  shy  of 
conventionality  and  patronage.  It  was  in- 
clined to  be  self-asserting,  and  was  rarely 
arm-in-arm,  but  for  recreation.  It  gave 
and  took  as  it  willed.  It  husbanded  by 
determining  without  counsel.  Its  reserve 
conciliated  what  it  would  appropriate.  It 
was  democratic,  essentially.  It  required 
and  permitted  alike.  While  it  chose,  it 
gave  choice,  without  question.  Freedom 
it  claimed  and  allowed,  an  immunity  with- 
out gyves.  A  receptacle,  it  could  wait  to 
receive,  and  would  not  obstruct  nor  be 
obstructed.  A  week  was  not  idle  that 
brought  something,  but  a  day  was  wasted 
if  employed  upon  nothings.  Its  freedom 
was  its  strength,  which  modish  subser- 
viency  acknowledged  by   obeisance.      Its 


Immunity 

without 
gyves. 


Ideal  Manhood  J} 

faculties  were  fitted  for  work  by  waiting 
for  work  worthy  of  them.  Friction  it  liked, 
but  not  the  attrition  of  mechanic  move- 
ment. The  principles  it  would  freely  use 
were  as  virginal  and  unhandled  as  when 
spoken  of  God.  Ideal  manhood  stood  for 
ideas,  facts,  and  deeds.     Rectitude  identi-  Rectitude 

_   .  „^,  .  r  i       identified  it. 

fied  it.  The  extrinsic  was  its  foreground  ; 
the  inherent  its  perspective,  illimitable. 
Trials  quickened  and  refined  it.  Wants 
supplied  and  pangs  consoled  it.  Calamities 
became  resources,  treasures  which  did  not 
waste,  entailed  for  precious  uses,  perpetu- 
ated in  goodness,  or  fame,  or  glory.  In 
heroic  days,  plain  food,  in  sufficient  quan- 
tity, was  all  that  was  required.  The  ap- 
petite was  kept  whetted  by  labor,  and 
digestion  was  as  easy  and  unconscious  as 
respiration.  Sandwiches  of  corn-bread  and 
bacon,  with  the  fallen  tree  for  a  table,  un- 
touched and  unpolished  but  by  the  winds 
of  heaven,  and  the  glittering  axe  for  a 
platter,  brighter  than  the  brightest  silver, 
made  a  delicious  and  brilliant  dinner  for  a  delicious 

,  ,  .       -  .  e  ,     andbrilliant 

the  pioneer,  after  six  honest  hours  ot  wood-  dinner. 
man's  gymnastics.    His  simple  and  earnest 
life  was  ever   a  song  or   a  prayer.     The 
present  was  all  thankfulness  and  the  future 
all  hope.     His  daily   enjoyments,   dearly 


J4  Sub-Ccelum 

and  honestly  earned,  were  doubly  blessed 
Health  ami'm  health   and   sweet    conscience   by   the 

sweet  con-  .   .  . 

science.  Master  Employer.  His  title  to  the  acres  he 
opened  to  the  sun  was  directly  from  their 
Creator  ;  and  the  bread  they  brought  him 
was  by  the  sweat  of  his  own  face.  His 
future,  in  the  steady  serenity  of  heroic 
faith,  appeared  abounding  in  only  such 
promises  as  his  fidelity  and  devotion  real- 
ized. His  work  and  wants  were  so  simple 
as  ever  to  keep  him  close  to  the  Giver. 
There  was  no  middleman  to  divide  his 
blessings  or  qualify  his  thanksgiving.  His 
health  the  Helper,  and  his  will  the  Assur- 
ance, his  own  short  arm  was  long  enough 
to  reach  the  Bountiful  and  Everlasting. 

the  ple-  In  the  ordinary  sense,  the  plebeian  and 
aristo-  the  aristocrat  did  not  exist  in  Sub-Ccelum. 
Society  was  so  constituted,  and  men  were 
so  governed  by  exceptional  conditions, 
that  such  distinctions  were  not  recognized. 
Extremes  met  on  the  same  plane.  Per- 
sonal freedom,  self-respect,  and  the  pride 
of  manhood,  placed  men  one  with  another. 
Every  man  a  man,  he  naturally  felt  and 
acknowledged  the  manhood  of  every  other. 
The  uses  of  labor,  of  money,  of  intelligence, 
and  of  character,  were  held  to  be  insepa- 


THE 
CRAT. 


Responsibilities  of  Wealth  75 

rable.  The  responsibilities  of  wealth 
made  the  rich  man  grave,  considerate,  and 
modest.  He  felt  his  dependence  the  same  Mutual de- 
as  that  of  his  less  opulent  neighbor.  Fru- 
gality and  liberality  formed  a  just  balance. 
Simple  living  and  industry  were  resources 
to  offset  affluence.  The  same  sum  repre- 
sented services  recompensed  and  services 
rendered.  Obligation  and  dependence 
were  mutual.  It  was  not  for  employer  or 
employee  to  lord  it  over  his  copartner.  In 
his  freedom  from  the  care  of  great  prop- 
erty, the  attentive  citizen  of  moderate 
means  esteemed  himself  fortunate  as  his 
eyes  gradually  opened  to  a  knowledge  of 
its  perils  and  burdens.  As  he  perceived 
the  invisible  hands  reaching  out  from  all 
round  for  the  accumulated  treasure  — 
hands  of  mendicity  and  hands  of  cupidity 
—  he  better  understood  the  delicate  atti- 
tude of  its  possessor.  The  cares  of  honest 
poverty,  he  discovered,  were  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  cares  of  hoarded  riches.  The  cares  0j 
The  piles  of  letters  on  the  rich  man's  table  hrTJi!sd 
every  morning  !  The  fulsome  flatteries, 
ingenious  and  offensive !  The  threaten- 
ings,  bold  and  insinuated  !  The  schemers, 
soliciting  money  to  balance  prescience ! 
Poor  women,  in  the  extremity  of  pride  and 


j6  Sub-Coshim 

distress,  humiliatingly  appealing  for  assist- 
ance !    Reports  of  deficits  in  eleemosynary 
To  quicken    institutions!      All    to    quicken    sympathy 
STJSU* and   disturb   the   purse-strings.      Agents 
Vtrm/s'f'     were  kept  busy  searching  out  the  worthy. 
How  could  the  rich  man,  with  a  heart  in 
him,  be  free   from   anxiety  and   responsi- 
bility ?     His  vessels  were  on  the  treacher- 
ous sea.     His  dividends  had  been  lessened 
by  a  sweeping  fire.     His  boy  was  a  sorry 
expense.     If  he  let  his  wealth  accumulate, 
how  was  he  to  find  secure  and  profitable 
investment  ? 

the  vices.  The  vices,  in  a  great  measure,  had  been 
eliminated,  or  had  died  out.  Vast  man- 
ufactories of  drinks  and  superfluities  had 
been  abandoned.  Tobacco  was  little  used. 
Houses  of  sin  were  generally  closed.  Gam- 
bling was  almost  unknown.  Occupations 
were  numerously  diminished.  Those  de- 
pending upon  private  vices  almost  ceased 
to  exist.  Horses  were  bred  for  moral  quali- 
ties rather  than  for  speed.  The  prize-ring 
was  a  thing  of  history.  People  wondered 
at  its  brutality  as  they  read  about  it.  That 
manhood  should  have  been  so  perverted 
One  of  the  was  one  of  the  shocking  things  in  their 
things."      annals.    As  the  ordinary  uses  of  money  di- 


The  Change  Revolutionary  jj 

minished,  new  employment  was  found  for 
it.  In  proportion  as  the  vices  died  out  the  The  virtues 
virtues  had  been  stimulated.  The  change 
had  been  revolutionary.  Life  was  not  the 
mercenary,  sensual  thing  it  had  been. 
Chasing  rolling  bits  of  silver  and  gold  had 
ceased  to  be  its  nearly  universal  employ- 
ment. Pandering  to  extravagance  and  vice 
was  no  longer  respectable.  To  elevate 
humanity,  not  to  degrade  it,  had  become 
the  supreme  object  of  civilization.  Men 
became  ashamed  of  what  before  they  had 
been  proud  of.  They  studied,  more  and 
more,  the  laws  of  life,  and  the  requisites  to 
health  and  enjoyment.  Expenditures  being 
largely  confined  to  comforts  and  necessi- 
ties, not  much  money  was  indispensable. 
Hours  of  labor  were  reduced,  and  leisure  Hours  of  i*. 

■,  t        ,i  i  tt  bar  reduced. 

was  abundantly  increased.  Homes  were 
supplied  with  every  convenience,  to  make 
domestic  occupations  easy  and  attractive. 
The  kitchen  became  a  museum.  Water, 
for  culinary  and  drinking  purposes,  was 
perfectly  filtered  by  simple  and  inexpen- 
sive means.  Against  flies,  vermin,  and  in- 
sects of  every  sort,  there  was  complete  pro- 
tection. The  common  rat  and  pestilent 
mouse  had  been  so  persistently,  intelli- 
gently,  and  humanely  pursued,  that  both 


78 


Sub-Caium 


species  were  nearly  extinct.  Nerves  and 
sympathies  being  too  precious  to  be 
wasted,  heads  of  fowls  were  lopped  off  by 
Guillotines,  ingeniously  contrived  guillotines.  Simple 
and  convenient  apparatus  for  bathing  was 
in  every  household.  In  the  construction 
of  commodes,  of  every  variety  and  pattern, 
the  utmost  ingenuity  was  expended.  Pri- 
vate offices,  naturally  disagreeable,  were 
relieved  of  unpleasantness  by  attractive 
and  luxurious  appliances.  Offal,  faeces, 
waste  of  every  kind,  were  consumed  by  fire, 
or  reduced  by  chemical  means  to  impalpa- 
ble and  scentless  dust.  The  vices  being 
no  longer  commodities,  to  any  large  extent, 
the  multitudes  dealing  in  them  found  other 
occupations.  Genius  was  developed  in 
unexpected  abundance,  and  was  felicitously 
applied,  in  innumerable  ways,  to  make  life 
abounding  in  comfort  and  happiness.  Land 
increased  in  value  as  labor  became  more 
generally  necessary  to  individual  suste- 
nance. The  big  diamonds  and  showy 
charms,  no  longer  attractions  in  the  gin- 
shops  and  brothels,  were  bartered  for  good 
acres  and  implements  of  husbandry.  Dol- 
lars, got  in  the  dark,  were  no  longer 
many  :  all,  with  the  few  exceptions,  were 
earned  in  the  light,  and  under  the  sun  ; 


Land  in- 
creased in 

value. 


High  Qualities  Conspicuous  79 

and  being  limited  to  honest  and  clean  uses, 
went  a  great  way.  Pecuniary  indepen- 
dence was  practicable  and  easy.  A  few 
hours  each  day  supplied  all  that  was  requi- 
site. Where  wants  were  few  and  easily 
satisfied,  is  it  any  wonder  the  distinguish- 
ing names  of  plebeian  and  aristocrat  were 
obsolete  or  inapplicable  ? 

Increase  of  common  sense  and  practical  common 
wisdom  was  a  marked  result  of  the  new  practical 

«.r  t-.,  i-i  t    •  1  Wisdom. 

lite.  Inese  high  qualities  appeared  more 
conspicuously  in  all  that  they  did.  Their 
knowledge  and  experience  were  system- 
atically applied.  The  comparatively  poor, 
capable  man,  for  that  reason,  became  rich 
in  resources.  The  economies  and  possi- 
bilities made  him  a  master.  How  could 
he  be  utterly  poor  with  unexhausted  means 
—  while  anything  remained  to  be  done  it 
was  possible  for  him  to  do  ?  His  few  acres 
produced  marvelously.  To  the  depth  of 
three  spades,  sometimes,  the  light  and 
gases  were  let  in.  Pulverization,  fertiliza- 
tion, rotation,  were  matters  of  intelligent 
study  and  experiment,  and  there  was 
certain  increase  in  productiveness.  Their  certain  in, 
kitchen  gardens,  more,  even,  than  their  cproduc"\re. 
farms,     were     attentively    cultivated.      A '" 


80  Sub-Ccelum 

small  space  seemed  enough  for  a  family. 
The  vegetables  were  exaggerations,  and 
their  small  fruits  excelled  in  flavor  and 
abundance.  Cabbages  and  cauliflowers 
were  favorites,  and  grew  better  by  the 
affection  bestowed  upon  them.  Berries ! 
—  to  know  them  you  must  taste  them. 
Their  flavor  was  an  inspiration,  and  a  joy- 
ful memory. 

small  Farms  were  small    in    Sub-Ccelum,  for 

Farms  Pre-  n  ...  ,         ,_T    ,.       .,, 

ferred.  reasons  stated  and  interred.  Well  tilled, 
they  were  found  preferable  to  extensive 
plantations.  Ploughing  was  deep.  Drain- 
age was  complete.  When  necessary,  irri- 
gation was  easy.  Lakes  on  the  mountains 
and  high  uplands,  with  perpetual  streams 
flowing  from  them,  supplied  an  abundance 
of  water,  and  the  topography  of  the  coun- 
try was  generally  such  that  the  diversion  of 
it  from  natural  channels  was  not  difficult 
nor  expensive.  Extraordinary  care  was 
taken  in  the  selection  of  the  seeds  they 
planted.  And  they  attentively  studied  the 
enemies  of  all  kinds  of  grain  and  plants. 

Entomology  Entomology  was  so  understood,  that  the 

understood.     .      .  .  .  .  ,     .  . 

habits  of  such  worms  and  insects  as  they 
warred  against  were  accurately  known. 
How  to  exterminate  them  was  always  an 


Knowledge  Liberally  Applied        81 

interesting  subject  of  conversation  with 
agriculturists.  The  knowledge  they  dis- 
played was  acute  and  extensive,  and  was 
always  liberally  applied.  Applied,  mark 
you !  for  knowledge  was  not  held  of  high 
estimation  that  was  not  practical  and  ap- 
plicable. Do  as  you  know,  was  an  admoni- 
tory precept  everywhere  heard. 

Fish  -  ponds   were  abundant,  and   great  fish-ponds 

r  .  .  .     .  Abundant. 

pride  was  felt  in  everything  pertaining  to 
piscatorial  culture  and  art.  The  finest  fish 
for  the  table,  and  the  most  beautiful  for 
ornament,  were  always  at  hand.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  limit  to  the  supply.  Tch- 
thyological  literature  was  exhausted  to 
multiply  them.  Their  nature  was  studied 
until  it  was  understood.  Just  how  to  feed 
and  treat  them  was  known  to  perfection, 
and  they  grew  in  flavor  and  proportions 
accordingly.  In  the  ponds,  they  were 
petted  and  caressed  till  they  delighted  in 
human  companionship.  They  floated  into 
your  hand  in  a  manner  to  invite  sympathy 
and  tenderness.     Selection  was  made  for  selection 

•  i" m       i  x         i        easily  wade. 

the  table  with  the  least  difficulty.  In  the 
streams,  the  varieties  delighted  in  by 
sportsmen  abounded.  Every  household 
had   a   cabinet    of    fishermen's    supplies. 


82 


Sub-Ccelum 


of  life. 


Nets,  rods,  hooks,  flies  —  everything  per- 
taining to  the  art  —  a  veritable  museum  of 
utilities  and  curiosities.  Everything  was 
done  to  foster  and  elevate  the  art — no- 
thing to  disparage  and  degrade  it.  A  great 
Tiutoetry  part  of  the  poetry  of  life  was  inspired  by 
the  music  of  streams,  and  the  skillful  cap- 
ture of  their  inhabitants.  The  man  who 
did  not  delight  in  the  temperate  art  of  an- 
gling possessed  no  quality  of  the  philoso- 
pher or  poet.  If  he  could  not  contemplate 
the  running  stream  as  an  image  of  human 
life,  and  cast  his  hook  into  it  as  he  cast  his 
venture  into  the  mysterious  current  of 
affairs,  with  only  a  hope  or  a  guess  of  the 
result,  he  did  not  apprehend  conditions. 
The  shifting  atoms,  on  their  way  to  the 
sea,  and  the  elusive  fishes,  are  not  more 
uncertain  than  the  passing  moments,  and 
what  they  promise  to  us. 


Bee-cul- 
ture. 


The  cultivation  of  flowers  was  universal : 
every  household  had  a  garden  of  them. 
Bees,  as  a  consequence,  were  generally 
kept  and  studied.  Children,  even,  were 
wise  about  the  wonderful  creatures.  Bees 
and  bee-culture  was  a  favorite  topic  of  con- 
versation. There  was  scarce  any  limit  to 
the  discoveries  close  observation  had  made 


Talk  of  Bee-Keepers  83 

of  their  habits  and  achievements.  The 
talk  of  bee-keepers  was  as  interesting  as 
the  talk  of  astronomers.  It  abounded  in 
incidents  and  anecdotes  worthy  the  atten- 
tion of  best-endowed  minds.     The  ways  of  The  ways  0/ 

,  •  1  r  i   bees  and 

bees  were  as  curious  as  those  of  men,  and  men. 
were  freely  used  to  illustrate  human  life 
and  conduct.  The  philosophic  uses  of 
both,  indeed,  were  interchangeable,  with- 
out any  great  disadvantage  to  either.  A 
knowledge  of  the  wisdom  of  the  little  in- 
sects was  not  encouraging  to  the  growth  of 
conceit  in  the  higher  species.  The  more 
people  knew  of  bees,  the  less  self-flattering 
the  estimates  of  themselves  were.  The 
parallels  they  constantly  drew  confused 
their  notions  of  instinct  and  reason.  Dis- 
tinctions between  them,  and  their  limits, 
were  never  fixed,  but  constantly  changing. 
No  other  creature  under  their  care  was  so 
profoundly  interesting.  The  suggestions 
of  the  apiary  and  its  product  were  steady 
resources  for  mind  and  body.  No  food 
was  considered  quite  so   healthful,  in  cer-  Honey 

-.   ,  .  _,.  .  healthful. 

tain  conditions,  as  honey.  I  he  respiratory 
and  pulmonary  organs  were  helped  by  it, 
and  its  free  use  was  regarded  by  many  as  a 
sure  preventive  of  consumption.  Well-de- 
fined cases  of  that  dread  disease  did  not 


84  Sub-Caium 

exist  there,  and  the  fact  was  accounted  for 
in  part  by  the  general  use  of  the  sweet  pro- 
duct. Oxymel  had  been  an  approved 
remedy  time  out  of  mind. 

propaga-  Great  attention  was  paid  to  the  propaga- 
pouLtry.  tion  of  poultry.  The  barnyard  was  a  pic- 
ture. By  careful  selection  and  intelligent 
treatment  remarkable  results  had  been  at- 
tained. Enemies  had  been  destroyed  or 
thwarted,  and  disease  rarely  showed  itself. 
Eggs  multiplied  prodigiously.  Artificial 
hatching  was  not  in  vogue.  Too  many  of 
the  fowls  produced  were  deformed.  Be- 
sides, in  their  nice  sense,  they  did  not  like 
to  disturb  the  course  of  instinct.  Capons 
grew  to  great  proportions  and  sweetness. 
The  duck,  in  kitchen  parlance,  was  all 
breast.  The  turkey  increased  in  juiciness 
and  flavor  under  improved  feeding.  But 
The  bird  0/  the  royal  peacock  was  the  bird  of  excel- 
lence and  preference.  He  adorned  the 
farm  and  completed  the  banquet.  His 
lofty,  ostentatious  mien  made  him  an  un- 
failing attraction.  Guests  at  afternoon 
dinner-parties  were  entertained  by  his  ma- 
jestic strut  and  spread  of  tail  and  gorgeous- 
ness  of  color.  An  admiring  word  was 
enough  to  brighten  and  animate  every  fea- 


The  Royal  Peacock  85 

ther,  and  set  him  forth  in  all  his  glory. 
The  gamut  of  ridiculous  pride  was  in  his 
dissonant  notes.  No  other  article  of  food 
commanded  so  high  a  price.  In  the  poul- 
terer's stall  he  was  adorned  with  ribbons.  Adorned 

T  .  .  .        .  .  ,   .  with  ribbons. 

Just  the  time  required  to  ripen  him  per- 
fectly, was  a  question  gastronomers  were 
ever  discussing  ;  and  how  most  divinely  to 
cook  him,  was  a  subject  that  inspired 
genius.  Poets  sang  the  royal  bird,  and 
painters  exhausted  their  pigments  to  imi- 
tate his  tints.  Unique  ceremonies  were 
performed  over  him,  as  he  lay  in  his  fra- 
grance and  juiciness,  on  the  banqueting 
table,  before  anatomy  divided  his  bones, 
and  laid  bare  the  depths  of  his  bounteous 
bosom.  The  skilled  carver,  as  he  cut  away 
the  succulent  flakes,  was  expected  deftly 
to  show  them  in  such  light  as  would  dis- 
play their  translucency  and  lustre.  Times 
when  the  peacock  was  the  special  gastro- 
nomic glory,  were  occasions  of  faithful  and 
triumphant  record.  Draughts  were  made 
of  the  table,  and  the  names  of  honored 
guests  were  appropriately  set  down  in  rose- 
ate colors. 

The  Sub-Ccelum  oyster  was  the  best  of  the  sub- 
all  the  sixty  or  more  known  species.     The  o^'t^k. 


86  Sitb-Ca'him 

beds  on  all  the  shores  were  extensive  and 
abundant  —  especially  at  the  mouths  of  the 
Favorable  great  rivers.  Favorable  flats  for  trans- 
trampiant-  planting  were  at  convenient  distances  from 
the  great  beds.  The  greatest  were  in  shal- 
low water,  not  much  above  a  dozen  feet  in 
depth,  making  the  dredging  process  com- 
paratively easy.  Transplanted  to  the 
marshes,  fed  perpetually  by  innumerable 
rills  of  sweet  water  from  the  mountains 
and  highlands,  flowing  through  beds  of 
odoriferous  herbage,  imparted  a  matchless 
flavor  to  the  universally  beloved  mollusk. 
The  bays  had  been  stocked  till  the  multi- 
plication was  incalculable.  Industry  and 
science  had  done  wonders.  The  delicious 
bivalve  was  of  unlimited  consumption,  and 
cheap.  Raw  and  cooked,  he  was  served 
in  every  attractive  manner.  Only  the  per- 
fectly healthy  oyster  was  marketable.  The 
slightest  show  of  disease  consigned  him  to 
the  basket,  to  be  fed  to  the  poultry  and  the 
The  ivadmg  fishes.  The  wading  oyster-catcher  was 
catcher.  hunted  industriously,  and  did  not  multiply. 
In  very  many  cases  the  peculiar  bird  was 
made  to  lose  his  predatory  habits  by  do- 
mestication. Thus  diverted  in  nature,  he 
formed  a  handsome  addition  to  the  park 
and  poultry  yard.     Once  every  year,  a  day 


Oyster-Holiday  8j 

was  set  apart  to  the  celebration  of  the  oys- 
ter ;  and  oyster-holiday  was  joyfully  wel- 
comed and  universally  kept.  Public  tables  pMictabies 
groaned,  as  we  say,  with  the  incomparable  gr 
marine  production.  It  was  the  festival  of 
the  people.  They  met  together  as  one 
great  family,  and  transfused  a  spirit  of 
love  and  patriotism  from  one  to  another. 
If  any  estrangement  existed  between  friends 
or  neighbors,  it  was  expected  to  end  with 
that  day.  New  acquaintances  were  formed, 
and  a  flow  of  new  blood  fused  society  to  a 
higher  healthfulness.  Prepossessions  and 
jealousies  and  envies  vanished  from  sound 
hearts.  Grudges  were  never  more  than  a 
year  old.  Sullen  malice  or  malevolence,  of 
longer  existence,  was  treated  as  disease,  or 
occasioned  unenviable  distinction.  So- 
cially, an  invisible  guard  was  set  round  it, 
as  around  a  dangerous  malady.  The  moral 
indebtedness  of  the  population  to  the  an- 
nual festival  was  incomputable. 

The  grape,  of  different  species,  and  of  grapes  and 
many  varieties,  had  been  indigenous  from 
the  beginning.  Soil  and  climate  were 
adapted  to  its  growth.  In  the  wild  state, 
the  fruit  was  inviting  and  palatable,  but 
under  intelligent  cultivation  it  was  unsur- 


WlNE. 


88  Sub-Ccelum 

vineyards  passed.  The  hills  everywhere  were  adorned 
with  vineyards.  Old  and  young  found 
congenial  employment  in  them.  Favora- 
ble conditions  made  it  possible,  without 
great  artificial  aid,  to  have  the  best  varie- 
ties the  year  round.  Kinds  best  adapted 
to  the  table  were  cultivated  to  be  almost 
seedless.  Grapes  were  so  abundant  that 
they  were  very  cheap.  All  enjoyed  them 
without  stint.  Wine-making  was  one  of 
the  active  pursuits  of  the  country,  and 
those  engaged  in  it  were  proud  of  it :  the 
cleanly  vats  and  the  delicate  manner  in 
which  the  clusters  were  trodden,  gave  proof 

spirited  of  it.  Splashed  ankles  of  fair  women  added 
picturesqueness.  The  red  and  purple  upon 
lustrous  semi-pellucid  extremities  were  tints 
to  be  remembered  evermore.  Artists  and 
bards  made  the  most  of  them.  Attempt 
was  made  to  employ  young  elephants  to 
press  out  the  juices  ;  but  the  innovation 
was  discouraged.  Opportunities  of  fair  and 
just  rivalry  were  not  to  be  restricted.  En- 
dowments of  nature  were  not  to  be  thus 

Everybody    disparaged.     Everybody  drank  wine,  as  he 

drank  wine.    ..  .  ...       .  .        .  , 

did  water,  or  milk,  for  refreshment  and 
nourishment.  Nobody  thought  of  ques- 
tioning the  morality  of  its  use.  It  was 
upon  every  table  at  every  meal.     As  great 


A  Man  Drunk  was  Odious  89 

pains  were  taken  to  keep  it  pure,  it  was 
found  to  be  healthful.     Drunkenness  from  Drunken- 
wine-drinking  was  unknown.     It  was  from  wine -drink. 
distillation  that  the  mischief  came.     Fortu-  known. 
nately,  the  strong  liquor  was  little  used. 
Public  opinion  was  against  it.     Reputation 
was  affected  by  its  free  use.     Drunkenness 
was  treated  as  disease.     Victims  of  it  were 
separated  from  the  general  public.     A  man 
drunk  was  odious.     If  shame  did  not  pre- 
vent a  repetition  of  his  offense,  he  was  in 
danger   of    being   considered   incorrigible, 
and  of  being  treated  as  such.     Examples  Examples 

c     i        1   •       i  1  1  i  educated  the 

ot  the  kind  helped  to  educate  the  people  to  people. 
right  conduct.  They  did  more  to  instruct 
than  all  the  didactic  poems,  essays,  and 
addresses.  Their  effects  were  thorough, 
and  went  to  the  sources  of  the  evil.  Soci- 
eties were  not  formed  to  exterminate  the 
drunkard,  nor  to  make  a  pet  of  him.  He 
was  held  responsible  till  officially  declared 
otherwise.  Drunkenness  was  attacked  as 
a  moral  disease,  not  to  be  cured  by  salves 
nor  embrocations.  The  miserable  habit 
would  die  out  when  better  standards  and 
inclinations  were  established.  The  sin  The  sin  per- 
was  personal,  and  not  of  society.  The 
comfort  and  innocent  pleasures  of  the 
many  were   not   to  be   restricted   by  the 


go  Sub-Cceluin 

excesses  of  the  few.     The  mode  of  refor- 
mation was  not  by  absolute  self-denial  nor 
TJujoyof   prohibition.    The  joy  of  the  common  heart 

the  common  . .  .  , 

heart  not  re-  was  not  systematically  restrained  nor  re- 
pressed by  individual  instances  of  volun- 
tary excess.  The  good  things  of  Sub- 
Ccelum  were  to  be  enjoyed,  and  not  to  be 
abused.  Good  wine  was  inseparable  from 
the  life,  which  comprehended  all  that  was 
excellent,  and  a  just  and  generous  enjoy- 
ment of  it.  To  rejoice  was  better  than  to 
groan.  Ills  were  forgotten  in  good-fellow- 
ship. Misery  was  not  helped  by  lamenta- 
tion.    Dolor  was  no  cure. 


endless  Fruit  trees  were  planted  at  each  side  of 

all  the  public  roads.  Not  so  near  together 
as  to  impoverish  or  seriously  shade  the 
land  contiguous.  This  utilization  of  the 
public  spaces  supplied  the  choicest  fruit  in 
abundance  to  everybody.  All  any  one  had 
to  do  was  to  gather  it ;  but  it  was  a  grave 
offense  to  damage  in  the  least  the  trees. 
The  laws  regulating  this  wise  provision 
were  of  the  strictest  character,  and  were 
rigorously  enforced.  Public  opinion,  how- 
ever, was  a  better  protection  than  any  en- 
The  peopu  actment.  The  people  were  proud  of  their 
them.  °       endless  orchards,  as  they  called  them,  and 


Belonging  to  Everybody  gi 

guarded  them  with  scrupulously  jealous 
care.  It  was  the  rarest  thing  that  a  tree  iiimage  pie 
suffered  from  ill-usage.  The  Common- 
wealth planted  the  trees  and  maintained 
them.  The  old,  or  sickly,  or  ill-bearing 
were  from  time  to  time  cut  down,  and 
young,  vigorous,  promising  ones  put  in 
their  places.  The  long  lines  of  thrifty 
trees  were  a  delight  to  see.  In  bloom,  they 
filled  the  imagination.  The  bees  made 
them  musical.  Filled  with  luscious  fruit, 
they  stimulated  the  palate,  and  made  happy 
the  birds.  Such  walks  and  drives,  bor- 
dered by  fragrance  and  richness  !  Belong-  Fragrance 
ing  to  nobody,  but  to  everybody  !  In  full  ««*. 
fruitage,  the  bounty  was  in  fruition.  The 
Government,  if  a  sentient,  sentimental 
thing,  might  have  realized  the  blessing, 
and  led  in  the  thanksgiving.  Patriotism, 
under  such  conditions,  was  as  natural  as 
filial  affection.  Incivism  was  not  conceiv- 
able.    Generosity,    too,  was    spontaneous.  Generosity 

.  .  spontaneous. 

Easy  supply  was  inseparable  trom  tree 
giving.  The  common  heart  was  not  cir- 
cumspect nor  prudential.  The  humanities 
quickened  it,  and  made  it  unconscious  in 
all  good  offices.  Better  men  and  women 
were  but  the  natural  result  of  the  never- 
ending  munificence. 


Q2  Sub-Ccelum 

highways  Their  highways  were  ideal  in  excellence. 
They  were  made  of  the  good  materials  sup- 
plied by  their  valleys  and  mountains,  and 
were  as  level  as  practicable,  and  perfectly 
drained.  Grades  were  mathematical  and 
easy.  Impediment  of  any  sort  was  not 
permitted.  A  single  draft  -  horse  would 
draw  as  great  a  burden  as  the  most  sub- 
stantial of  their  wagons  would  bear.  It 
was  a  joy  to  ride  or  drive  on  their  roads ; 
and  the  horses  felt  the  inspiration.  Vehi- 
cles, almost  self-moving,  were  in  general 
use.  Everybody  had  some  independent 
means  of  mechanical  locomotion.  Chariots 
large  and  chariots  diminutive,  with  sails, 
with  batteries,  with  wings,  glided  along 
without  equine  assistance.  Happy  chil- 
dren !  happy  women !  happy  men !  Un- 
der the  blue  dome  was  ever  anything  more 
joyous  ? 

How  Cities  Their  cities,  towns,  and  villages  were 
lages  were  laid  out  in  squares,  with  streets  running, 
as  we  say,  from  northeast  to  southwest, 
and  from  southeast  to  northwest.  Laid 
out  in  that  manner,  neither  side  of  any 
street  had  any  advantage.  Sunshine  and 
shade  were  the  same  on  both  sides.  Prop- 
erty, in  consequence,  was  alike  desirable 


Sunshine  at  a  Premium  93 

on  either  side,  and,  other  things  being 
equal,  commanded  the  same  price.  Sun- 
shine being  at  a  premium,  everybody 
wanted  all  he  could  get  of  it.  Where 
houses  were  separated  sufficiently,  the  sun 
shone  on  every  side  alike.  Every  outside 
room  had  the  sun  a  part  of  each  day.  Win- 
dows, as  a  rule,  extended  from  floor  to  ceil- 
ing, and  the  air  inside  was  sun-swept  and  sun^wept 
purified  diurnally.  In  chambers,  beds  were  ai 
drawn  out  to  receive  the  sunshine  in  floods. 
Musty  and  damp  beds  were  unknown,  as 
were  certain  diseases  that  breed  in  perpet- 
ual humidity  and  shadow.  Free  sunshine 
and  free  air  were  in  permanent  fashion, 
and  were  not  intercepted  nor  excluded  ex- 
cept when  necessary.  Perfect  ventilation 
was  a  desideratum,  and  was  attained  as 
nearly  as  possible.  The  sweet  air  !  Had 
God  Almighty  intended  they  should  stint 
themselves  in  it,  would  He  have  poured  it 
out  all  round  the  earth  forty  miles  deep  ? 
Sun-painted  complexions  were  preferred,  sunjamud 
Paleness  was  deplored.  The  pride  of  the  com*UxioMS- 
women  especially  was  their  high  health 
and  high  color,  which  they  attributed 
largely  to  unlimited  light  and  pure  atmos- 
phere. Living  much  out  of  doors,  they 
unconsciously  caught  the  freedom  of  the 


94 


Sub-Coclum 


One  of  the 
pastimes. 


elements.  Their  eyes  were  strengthened 
and  brightened  by  being  accustomed  to 
great  range  of  vision.  One  of  the  pastimes 
was  to  count  the  birds,  or  other  small  ob- 
jects, so  far  away  as  scarcely  to  be  seen. 
Every  considerable  residence  was  provided 
with  a  room  lit  only  from  above.  The  pur- 
est glass  was  used,  and  the  moving  clouds 
were  as  visible  as  from  out-doors.  Conva- 
lescents and  invalids  rejoiced  in  the  pure 
light  and  living  frescoes.  On  cloudy  days 
and  moonlight  nights  the  sky-lit  rooms 
were  most  attractive.  A  day  spent  in  one 
of  them  was  like  a  day  spent  in  another 
zone. 


drainage.  Drainage  was  as  carefully  considered  as 
air  and  sunshine.  In  the  location  and  con- 
struction of  every  house,  provision  was 
made  to  get  rid  of  every  drop  of  surface 
water  not  purposely  caught  and  appropri- 
ated. Effects  of  neglecting  thorough  drain- 
age appeared  in  familiar  statistics.  In  old 
maps  they  pointed  out  the  routes  by  which 
epidemics  had  traveled,  invariably  over 
spaces  imperfectly  drained.  Filled  -  up 
marshes,  and  little  streams  leading  to  and 
from  them,  had  been  the  abode  of  wasting 
and    rotting  diseases,    before   the    houses 


Typhus  had  no  Chance  95 

that  covered  them  had  been  pulled  down, 
and  the  land  thoroughly  drained,  according 
to  scientific  system.  Cellars  and  sewers 
were  rigidly  inspected.  Typhus  had  no 
chance  to  burrow  or  linger.     Rich  people  Rich  people 

,  i       •      1  r  had  no  ad- 

had  no  advantage  over  their  less  fortunate  vantage. 
fellow-citizens.  The  provision  was  general, 
and  people  of  limited  means  and  the  opu- 
lent were  alike  rigorously  governed  in 
every  detail  pertaining  to  the  public  health. 
Humble  abodes  were  not  more  frequently 
visited  by  disease  than  palaces,  and  there 
was  not  an  unhealthy  locality  in  any  town 
or  city. 

Light  and  heat  were  obtained  almost  light  and 
entirely  from  water.  After  long-continued 
experiment,  the  elements  to  produce  them 
had  been  separated  and  applied.  Every 
house  was  illuminated  and  warmed  at  a 
moderate  cost.  The  streets  of  cities  and 
towns  were  brilliantly  lighted.  The  process 
was  ingenious,  but  not  complicated  nor  dan- 
gerous. Besides  being  simple  and  cheap, 
it  was  easily  manageable.  Temperature 
was  self-regulated.  All  you  had  to  do  was 
to  determine  the  standard,  and  the  ma- 
chinery did  the  rest,  without  considerable 
variation.    Cleanly,  too,  the  system  of  light- 


g6  Sub-Caium 

ing  and  heating  was,  without  measure. 
Housekeepers  were  not  troubled  with  dust, 
nor  smoke,  nor  vapor.  With  the  perfect 
The  air  was  system  of  ventilation,  the  air  was  kept  pure 
without  difficulty.  Nerves  and  brain  were 
stimulated  by  it,  and  the  lungs  delighted 
to  take  it  in  generously.  It  was  the  gen- 
eral belief  that  mind  and  body  were  both 
helped  by  the  improved  method  of  heating, 
and  great  hopes  of  increased  intellectual 
and  moral  development  were  fostered 
by  it.  Exalting  tonics  and  enrapturing 
odors  were  diffused  through  the  atmos- 
phere at  pleasure.  Talent  expended  itself 
in  producing  essences  and  tinctures  and 
stimulants  of  paradisaic  delicacy  to  be  so 
employed.  On  great  occasions  the  light 
produced  rivaled  that  of  the  sun.  The 
whole  atmosphere  seemed  to  be  aflame. 
The  effect  was  magical.  The  smallest 
thing  was  made  visible,  and  all  things  were 
beautified  in  appearance.  Men  appeared 
more  manly  and  women  more  lovely.  The 
pretty  children  seemed  just  to  have  de- 
scended. 

public  edi-  Public  edifices  were  not  built  to  endure 
forever.  Substantial  enough  and  suitably 
adorned,  they  were  meant  only  for  a  gener- 


Temples  of  fust  ice  97 

ation.  Instead  of  expending  a  million  in 
constructing  one  of  their  temples  of  justice, 
to  stand  for  a  century  or  two,  one  fourth 
of  that  sum  was  found  sufficient  to  erect 
a  suitable  structure,  to  last  for  an  age.  To  last  /or 
Thirty  years'  time  was  found  to  be  about 
the  limit  of  a  decent  degree  of  cleanliness 
and  purity  for  a  public  building.  The 
foul  gases  and  scents  and  creatures  would 
get  in,  and  no  amount  of  precaution  or 
care  would  keep  them  out.  It  was  dis- 
covered that  the  only  way  to  destroy  them 
completely  was  to  take  down  the  building. 
The  structure  to  succeed  it  was  built  after 
the  latest  models,  and  was  adapted  to  the 
generation  that  was  to  use  it.  Better 
drainage  was  had,  and  better  provision  was 
made  for  ventilation  and  lighting.  In  every 
way  the  new  building  was  an  improvement 
on  the  old,  and  was  better  adapted  to  the 
purposes  for  which  it  was  intended.  This 
habit  of  general  demolition  and  reconstruc-  Demolition 

r  .  ■,  1  . ,  and  recoii- 

tion  was  for  economic  as  well  as  sanitary  struct™. 
reasons.  Experience  had  proven  that  re- 
pairs alone,  on  a  million  structure,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  item  of  interest,  exceeded 
the  cost  of  new  buildings.  Experiments 
of  architects  and  plumbers  were  not  made 
except  at  great  expense,  and  as  often  dam- 


g8  Sub-Coclum 

age  resulted  from  them  as  benefit.  At 
best,  modification  and  adaptation  made  it 
an  old  building.  While  the  architecture 
changed  with  each  new  edifice,  much  care 
Economy  was  taken  to  limit  the  cost  of  it.  Showy 
ornamentation  was  strictly  avoided,  as  not 
in  agreement  with  the  public  taste  or  public 
policy.  Newness  and  freshness  were  pre- 
ferred to  decay  and  dinginess.  Distaste 
for  soiled  finery  was  pervading  —  it  ex- 
tended even  to  neglected  ostentatious 
buildings.  Architecture,  therefore,  looked 
to  simplicity  and  cheerfulness,  and  scrupu- 
lously avoided  whatever  might  appear  som- 
bre or  involved.  The  public  was  generous 
to  the  limit  of  reason,  —  extravagance  they 
did  not  permit.  Expenditures  must  be 
prudent  and  exemplary.  The  citizen  was 
not  to  see  in  the  public  what  would  be 
condemned  in  himself.  The  universally 
adopted  code  of  morals  forbade  the  expen- 
diture of  public  money  without  necessity, 
or  beyond  what  was  reasonable  or  proper. 
Reckless  dissipation  of  the  people's  money 
was  of  rarest  occurrence. 

hotels.  Hotels,  also,  for  the    public    entertain- 

ment, were  built  to  last  only  for  a  genera- 
tion.   Experience  had  taught  that,  in  spite 


The  Old-Hotel  Smell  gg 

of  all  the  soap  and  paint  and  disinfectants 
that  could  be  used,  they  would  grow  offen- 
sive to  the  olfactories.  The  old -hotel 
smell  was  pronounced  the  most  objection-  objection* 
able  and  noxious  of  all  the  variety  known  wus. 
to  the  nose  of  man.  It  was  the  product  of 
cellars,  sewers,  closets,  et  caetera,  and  con- 
tained a  portion  of  all  the  subtle  poisons 
known  and  unknown  to  chemistry.  Only 
the  sunshine  and  fresh  air  would  dissipate 
it.  Proverbially,  the  newest  hotel  was  the 
best.  The  public,  as  a  rule,  systematically 
passed  by  hostelries  where  for  many  years 
human  beings  had  eaten  and  slept  and 
performed  every  private  office.  Pollution 
bred  there. 

Not  a  bell  was  heard  from  any  building  bells. 
in  Sub  -  Ccelum.  Years  and  years  had 
elapsed  since  bells  had  been  used  to  call 
the  people  together  for  any  purpose. 
Everybody  had  a  clock  in  his  house  or  a 
chronometer  in  his  pocket,  and  bells  were 
not  regarded  as  necessary.  Besides,  the 
noise  had  become  generally  distasteful,  and 
the  common  feeling  and  the  common  sense 
had  prohibited  it.  After  every  attempt  had 
been  made  to  improve  them  in  tone,  it  was 
decided  that  the  best  results  could  hardly 


ioo  Siib-Coclum 

be  called  musical.  The  most  complete 
chimes,  in  the  common  ear,  were  little 
more  than  discords  —  consonance  or  har- 
mony was  not  in  them.  The  highest  ex- 
cellence in  music  having  been  attained,  the 
sJwckedby   public  ear  was  so  acute  as  to  be  shocked 

mere  noise.     .  -r-.  1  • 

by  mere  noise.  Every  one  having  a  taste 
for  the  divine  art  was  encouraged  to  cul- 
tivate it.  Scientific  training  had  made  the 
majority  pretty  good  musicians.  Mere 
noise,  to  the  extremity  of  possibility,  was 
avoided.  Exquisite  and  exalted  strains  pre- 
cluded it  —  even  the  consciousness  of  it. 
Absolute  softness  and  sweetness  were  de- 
siderata. The  tones  of  forty  instruments 
were  so  perfectly  blended  that  you  hardly 
heard  them  a  few  rods  away.  But  bells 
had  been  abolished  for  better  reasons. 
The  people  had  increased  in  thoughtful- 
ness,  refinement,  and  good-breeding,  until 
they  would  not  permit  what  might  be 
regarded  by  any  considerable  number  of 
Considerate  persons  as  unnecessary  disturbance.  Sick 
peopu.  people,  people  in  distress,  were  thought  of 
in  all  that  pertained  to  their  comfort  and 
protection.  Jingling,  jangling,  tintinnabu- 
lary  noises,  to  rend  sensitive  nerves  and 
hammer  inflamed  brains,  were  tortures  to 
the  unfortunate   that  considerate  civiliza- 


Pervading  Tbottghtfiilness  101 

tion  did  not  tolerate.  People  who  from 
any  cause  needed  sleep  were  remembered 
and  protected.  The  voice  of  one,  in  ex- 
tremity, was  heard  and  heeded  by  the 
multitude.  Majorities  were  considerate  of 
minorities.  Might  did  not  make  right.  Might  did 
The  pervading  thoughtfulness  of  others  right. 
was  one  of  the  distinguishing  charms  of 
the  population.  It  quickened  perception 
of  justice,  and  tenderly  regarded  weakness. 
It  made  aggressiveness  offensive.  Hard- 
ness was  barbarity.  Noises,  irritating  to 
many,  and  not  necessary  to  any,  like  those 
produced  by  loud-sounding  bells,  were  dis- 
pensed with,  as  not  in  agreement  with  their 
philosophy  of  life.  Their  scheme  of  civili- 
zation was  to  make  everybody  happy  — 
nobody  miserable. 

Music  was  so  generally  cultivated  and  music. 
enjoyed  that  it  largely  governed  the  life. 
It  was  vocation  and  avocation  —  employ- 
ment and  diversion  for  mind,  body,  and 
spirit.  Taste  and  ability  for  it  had  come 
down  through  the  generations.  It  seemed 
as  natural  to  them  as  any  appetite,  and  as 
necessary  as  to  breathe.  They  could,  most 
of  them,  sit  down  at  an  instrument  and 
practice  for  hours  together  without  weari- 


102  Siib-Calum 

ness  or  nervous  disturbance.  If  ill  effects 
followed  application,  continuance  was 
discouraged.  The  pupil  was  not  thought 
suited  to  the  art  to  whom  it  was  labor  to 
study  and  practice  it.  To  force  him  was 
considered  detrimental  to  health  and  hap- 

Agoodre-  piness.  The  result  was,  that  while  every- 
body enjoyed  music,  not  everybody  con- 
tinually attempted  to  produce  it.  The 
population  good  -  naturedly  put  up  with 
tyros,  at  the  same  time  they  took  pains  to 
protect  themselves  against  them.  Isolated 
halls  were  provided  for  students  to  practice 
in.  Anybody  could  not  blow  his  horn  any- 
where without  authority.  Brass  -  bands, 
except  the  few  that  were  distinguished, 
were  permitted  to  play  in  the  streets  and 
public  squares  only  on  certain  holidays. 
At  other  times  they  were  officially  rele- 
gated to  the  fields   and  forests — to  play 

The  night  only  in  the  daytime.  The  night  was  held 
sacred  to  silence  and  sweet  concord. 
Learners  in  households  were  only  heard  at 
certain  hours  in  the  morning,  when  ears 
and  nerves  were  most  enduring.  The  gen- 
eral musical  taste  and  education  of  the 
people  did  not  tend  to  unfit  them  for  other 
occupations  and  avocations.  It  was  possi- 
ble for  a  performer  or  vocalist  to  get  a  liv- 


Idlers  did  not  Abound  103 

ing  by  other  means,  however  proficient  he 
might  be  in  his  art.  Idlers  did  not  abound 
in  consequence  of  the  prevailing  passion 
and  acquisition.  Musical  societies  of  Musical soei- 
every  character  were  permanently  organ- 
ized—  small  for  private  enjoyment,  large 
for  public  exhibition.  The  home  entertain- 
ments, in  which  music  predominated,  were 
superior.  Imitations  of  sounds  of  every 
sort  were  produced  by  the  voice  and  by 
instruments.  The  ^Eolian  harp  itself  was 
imitated,  as  well  as  the  notes  and  cries  of 
birds  and  animals.  The  moan  of  the  sea 
and  the  murmur  of  the  brook  were  repro- 
duced with  surprising  exactness.  The 
birds  in  the  cages  joined  in  the  concert. 
The  cock  in  the  barnyard  responded  to  his 
own  notes.  Fun  and  enthusiasm  mingled. 
But  in  the  music  of  Heaven  —  the  orato-  The  music 0/ 
rio  —  they  were  happiest  and  most  tran- 
scendent. The  sublime  choruses  kindled 
the  imagination  and  enraptured  the  soul. 
Not  a  thought  of  noise  was  suggested  or 
impressed.  Discord  was  not.  Harmony 
prevailed,  and  governed,  to  the  last  degree. 
You  left  the  great  auditorium  full  to  the 
throat,  and  the  eyes,  of  the  glories  that 
are,  and  the  glories  that  are  to  be,  ever- 
more. 


104  Sub-Ccelum 

Poets  and       Great  poets  there  were  in  Sub-Ccelum  ; 

Poetry.         ,  _,.      .  ,      . 

but  not  many.  1  heir  names  being  short, 
you  could  utter  them  all  without  taking  a 
breath.  Poetasters,  however,  were  numer- 
ous ;  and  rhymsters  without  end.  Verse- 
making  was  one  of  the  common  amuse- 
ments of  the  people.  Much  of  their  corre- 
spondence was  in  verse.  Facility  in  the 
use  of  language,  and  their  musical  sense, 
made  the  process  easy.  Rhythm  and 
rhyme  were  one  to  them.  But  poetry  was 
another  thing,  and  attempts  at  it  were  not 
received  with  favor.  High  standards  made 
The  Maker  it  unattainable  by  mere  labor.    The  Maker 

made  the  .         .  .  ...  . 

poet.  made  the  poet.     The  poetical  view  of  na- 

ture and  man  they  regarded  as  the  clearest 
view,  agreeing  with  one  of  the  great  sages, 
that  the  meaning  of  song  goes  deep.  The 
poet  was,  to  them,  indeed  a  seer,  a  prophet, 
a  soul  divinely  inspired.  From  him  more 
even  than  from  the  priest,  they  had  evi- 
dence that  Sub-Ccelum  was  overspanned 
by  a  veritable  though  invisible  Super-Cce- 
lum,  city  of  the  Eternal  God.  Therefore 
they  held  no  such  foolish  saying  as  that  a 
proposition  has  in  it  more  truth  than  poe- 
Poetry  to  try,  for  poetry  to  their  apprehension  was 
hension.  the  nearest  approximation  to  absolute 
truth  that  human  language  could  achieve. 


The  Art  of  Poetry  105 

To  say  that  a  statement  was  true  as  poetry, 
was  to  exhaust  the  power  of  exact  speech. 
The  person  in  their  community  who  had 
no  sense  of  beauty,  no  ear  for  music,  and 
no  susceptibility  to  poetic  influences,  was 
looked  upon  with  pity,  much  as  in  other 
parts  of  the  world  humane  people  regard  an 
amiable  and  intelligent  dumb  animal.  For 
the  Sub-Ccelumites  were  the  most  tolerant  The  most 

1    r      i  •  r  iii  11  tolerant  and 

and  forbearing  or  mortals,  largely  because  forbearing 
they  were  suffused  with  the  sweet  light  of  ° 
the  imagination.     They  could  even  bear  to 
have  fellowship  with  men  and  women  who 
were  destitute  of  humor,  that  most  celes- 
tial virtue.     To  them  Poetry  and  Humor 
were  the  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  the  gods. 
In  their  palaces  hung  the  portraits  of  all 
the  great  Makers  from  Homer  and  ./Eschy- 
lus  to  the  nobler  bards  of  their  own  realm 
and  time.    Boys  and  girls  were  brought  up  Brought  up 
to  honor  the  name  of  Poet,  and  to  fashion  name  of 
their  lives  according  to  the  supreme  mo- 
rality of  the  immortal  poems  which  inter- 
pret both  human  truth  and  divine  revela- 
tion.    The  art  of  poetry  itself  took  on  a 
wonderful  and   almost  incredible  develop- 
ment under  the  new  conditions  of  life  and 
new  motives  to   action    existing  in  their 
civilization.      Like  every  other  expression 


io6  Sub-Ccclum 

of  man's  consciousness,  in  that  extraordi- 
nary country,  poetry  was  large  and  free, 
and  adequate  to  nature.  The  sublime  and 
beautiful  forms  which  verse  assumed  were 
a  general  innumerable.  There  was  a  general  break- 
hose/rom    ing  loose  from  conventional  fetters,  —  an 

conventional  .  .  .  .       ,  ,  -       ,         , 

fetters.  infinite  expansion  of  the  laws  of  rhythm, 
melody,  metre,  stanza,  and  trope  ;  —  the 
inspired  soul  of  the  creative  genius  put  on 
robes  of  singing  splendor,  and  revealed  the 
infinite  Love  and  Beauty  and  Power 
through  the  medium  of  words.  All  the 
people  studied  and  practiced,  in  some  de- 
gree, the  science  and  art  of  poetical  compo- 
sition, as  they  did  the  elements  of  music, 
not  for  the  purpose  of  setting  up  as  poets 
or  musicians,  but  in  order  to  be  able  to  ap- 
preciate and  enjoy  the  superb  productions 
of  the  mighty  masters. 

Musical  One  of  the  most  interesting   results  of 

their  temperate  and  cultivated  life  was  the 
great  proportion  of  finely  modulated  voices. 
Very  many  of  them  were  extremely  musi- 
cal. Voices  hard,  harsh,  husky,  disagree- 
able, were  exceptional.  Tones,  as  a  rule, 
accorded  with  habits,  dispositions,  and  ac- 
quirements. Free,  almost  entirely,  from 
excesses  of  any  sort,  kindly  in  nature,  and 


Voices. 


Slow  and  Deep  Breathing  ioj 

thoughtfully  intelligent,  gentleness  and 
sweetness  of  expression  were  only  natural 
to  them.  Vices  and  violences  had  not  dis- 
ordered their  speech.  Gluttony  and  drunk- 
enness had  not  inflamed  the  membranes. 
Breathing  was  free  and  unconscious,  and  Breathing 

...  .  ,  free  and  un- 

was  little  more  rapid  when  awake  than  conscious. 
when  sleeping.  Slow  and  deep  breathing 
had  long  been  practiced  advantageously- 
A  dozen  inspirations  to  the  minute  were 
not  very  uncommon.  Increased  strength, 
flexibility,  and  richness  were  added  to  the 
voice  by  the  good  habit.  Pretty  long  sen- 
tences were  easily  and  naturally  spoken 
without  taking  a  breath.  Lost  or  artificial 
teeth  did  not  affect  their  articulation.  The 
insides  of  their  mouths  were  not  covered 
over  with  gold  or  other  substance  to 
abrade  or  indurate  the  delicate  surfaces, 
and  consciously  modify  expression.  The 
dress  of  men  and  women  did  not  interfere 
with  the  natural  growth  and  expansion  of 
their  chests.  It  was  the  rarest  thing  that 
breasts  were  not  broad  and  arched. 
Throats,   too,  were   round  and   full,  from  Throats 

,         .  .  iii        round  and 

never  having  been  compressed  or  hurt  by  /«//. 
vicious  dressing.      It   was    considered   an 
outrage  upon  nature  to  do  anything  that 
would  interrupt  in  the  least  the  free  growth 


10S  Sitb-Coelum 

of  any  part  of  the  body  — especially  of  the 
rhe  li/e-giv-  life-giving     apparatus    of   respiration   and 

ing  tip  par  a-  ,  .  .   . 

ttts.  enunciation  ;    on  the  contrary,  everything 

was  done  to  promote  its  completest  natural 
development.  The  slightest  disturbance 
of  its  functions  was  anxiously  observed, 
and  corrected,  if  possible,  as  interfering  not 
only  with  individual  comfort,  but  the  gen- 
eral happiness.  Inhaling  tubes  were  freely 
used,  to  make  slow  and  deep  breathing 
habitual.  Men  and  women  walked  miles 
at  a  time  breathing  entirely  through  them. 
Instances  were  not  uncommon  where  the 
circumference  of  the  chest  had  been  in- 
creased from  one  to  two  inches  in  a  year 
by  frequently  using  them,  and  that  without 

Great  inspi-  increase  of  bodily  weight.     Great  inspira- 

rJxyg"n  tions  of  oxygen  moistened  the  spine  and 
beaded  the  brow,  and  prepared  them  for 
any  intellectual  or  moral  work,  better  than 
by  other  possible  means  of  stimulation. 
But  the  melody  of  their  voices  was  far  from 
being  wholly  owing  to  their  physical  life 
and  training  ;  their  high  moral  natures  and 
cultivated  intellects  contributed  as  much 
or  more  to  produce  it,  by  reacting  on  their 

Convert*  sympathetic  bodies.  Conversation  be- 
tween highly  enlightened  and  humane  men 
and   women,   upon   worthy   subjects,   was 


Their  Good  Readers  tog 

charming  indeed.  Tones  were  as  varied 
as  the  notes  of  the  harp  when  played  upon 
by  the    winds.     Thought   and   feeling,   in  Thought 

.  .  .  and  feeling. 

gradation  and  development,  were  uncon- 
sciously betrayed  in  ever-varying  modula- 
tions. Voices  flowed,  like  the  full-running 
brook  —  now  slow,  now  rapid  ;  rippling 
joyously ;  then  descending,  where  it  was 
still  and  deep,  to  swell  again  in  fuller  rich- 
ness, with  the  glow  of  imagination  and  sen- 
timent To  hear  one  of  their  good  readers 
read  was  a  very  high  order  of  entertain- 
ment. Not  an  affectation  or  trick  of  the 
self-conscious  elocutionist  was  visible  in  the 
exercise.  He  lost  himself  in  the  printed  Lost  himself 
page,  and  his  voice  echoed  its  thought  and  *//agw. 
emotion.  The  conversation  between  the 
Twa  Dogs  appeared  the  most  natural  of 
dialogues.  The  interlocutors  seemed  in- 
deed men,  until  the  invincible  humor  com- 
pelled you  to  remember  they  were  only 
dogs.  The  battles  in  Homer  were  as  real 
as  any  conflicts  could  be.  In  passages  of 
Job  and  Habakkuk  you  felt  in  full  force 
the  sublimity  of  supra-imagination.  In  the 
scene  of  the  White  Rose  in  the  Paradise  of  scene  of 'the 
Dante  you  had  a  vision  of  highest  heaven.  w 
A  lofty  meaning  was  revealed  that  might 
have  astonished  the  poet  himself. 


no  Sitb-Ccclum 

tight  Tight   dressing  was  not  fashionable  in 

dressing.  Sub-Ccelum.  The  people  were  proud  of 
their  natural  bodies  and  sound  children. 
It  had  been  a  great  while  since  any  gen- 
eral effort  had  been  made  to  divert  or 
thwart  nature.  Occasional  attempts  in 
that  way  were  always  attended  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  same  results.  Time  was 
when  distortion  of  the  body  was  common. 
It  was  thought  beautiful  to  be  out  of  na- 
ture. The  shape  was  fixed  by  the  artist's 
patterns,  no  matter  at  what  cost  of  pain  or 
violence.  The  rules  of  tape  and  scissors 
Proportion*  were  remorseless.  Proportions  must  be 
artistic.  artistic.  Form  must  be  fitted  to  the 
mould.  Life  was  absorbingly  artificial. 
Balls  and  calls  and  parties  and  operas  and 
shopping  left  little  time  for  anything  else. 
Children  were  an  incumbrance.  Nurses, 
most  trustworthy,  might  be  obtained  ;  but 
the  mother  could  not  withdraw  her  mind 
wholly  from  her  offspring.  The  success 
of  her  friend's  magnificent  entertainment 
would  be  qualified  or  marred  by  her  uneas- 
iness and  anxiety.  The  tastes  and  re- 
quirements of  gayety  and  maternity  were 
Fashion  incongruous.  Fashion  was  exacting,  and 
would  not  let  her  votaries  divide  or  sus- 
pend their  worship.      Out  of  fashion,  out 


The  Race  Threatened  m 

of  the  world,  was  one  of  her  maxims. 
Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,  was  another. 
Lists  of  friends  were  continually  being  re- 
vised, and  a  chance  would  occur  of  being 
left  off.  Babies,  she  said,  were  vulgar ;  Babies. 
they  were  troublesome  and  spoiled  the 
shape.  Her  rule  was  omnipotent  while  it 
lasted.  Only  the  general  decline  of  health 
and  weakness  of  progeny  abated  her 
power.  The  vigor  and  happiness  of  the 
race  were  threatened,  even  its  existence. 
Nervous  disorders  multiplied.  Soundness 
of  mind  as  well  as  of  body  was  slowly 
sapped.  Three  or  four  successive  genera- 
tions showed  marked  declension  and  de- 
generacy. Society,  only  after  such  con- 
vincing results,  became  alarmed  at  her 
follies,  and  set  about  righting  herself. 
Revolution  was  pretty  nearly  complete. 
It  became  fashionable  to  keep  good  hours, 
to  eat  healthful  food,  to  wear  loose,  com- 
fortable clothing,  and  to  carefully  avoid  Nature  not 
any  interference  with  nature.  The  beauty  /endwuh. 
of  the  race  —  of  men  and  of  women  —  in- 
creased. They  were  healthier  and  hap- 
pier. They  enjoyed,  more  and  more,  their 
homes  and  children.  Gayety  abounded  of 
the  natural  kind.  The  joys  of  life  were 
the  joys  of  health.     The  Style  and   Mrs. 


ii2  Sub-Ccelum 

Grundy  did  no  longer  govern  absolutely. 
In  fact,  it  became  the  fashion  to  be  health- 
compkx-  ful  and  natural  and  robust.  Good  com- 
plexions came  of  right  living.  Paleness 
or  sallowness  was  exceptional.  Uncon- 
sciously elastic  bodies  and  sound  minds 
predominated.  The  young,  left  to  nature, 
were  as  free-bodied  as  young  animals  al- 
ways are.  Domestic  life  was  ideal.  The 
atmosphere  of  well-ordered  homes  was  the 
best  under  heaven. 

a  felicity       It  was  deemed  the  greatest  part  of  their 

to  be  Well-  m  ox 

born.  felicity  to  be  well-born  —  of  parents  with 
sound  bodies,  sound  minds,  and  correct 
principles,  and  to  inherit  the  same.  It  was 
asserted  that  no  one  ever  changed  his 
character  from  the  time  he  was  two  years 
old ;  nay,  from  the  time  he  was  two  hours 
old.  That  he  might,  with  instruction  and 
opportunity,  mend  his  manners,  or  alter 
them  for  the  worse,  as  the  flesh  or  fortune 
served ;  but  the  character,  the  internal, 
original  bias,  remained  always  the  same, 
true  to  itself  to  the  very  last,  feeling  the 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death.  They  be- 
lieved, with  the   same  authority,  that  the 

The  fatal  color  of  their  lives  was  woven  into  the  fatal 
thread  at  their  births ;  that  their  original 


Each  Man's  Destiny  113 

sins  and  redeeming  graces  were  infused 
into  them  ;  nor  was  the  bond  that  con-  The  bond 
firmed  their  destiny  ever  canceled.  It  was  ceied. 
said,  and  believed  too,  that,  by  whatever 
name  you  call  it,  the  unconscious  was  found 
controlling  each  man's  destiny  without,  or 
in  defiance  of,  his  will.  Also,  that  all  in- 
dividuals were  the  outcome  of  past  in- 
fluences. Generations  lived  and  thought 
and  acted  that  each  one  might  be  what  he 
was.     Were  any  link  in  the  chain  of  hered-  The  chain  0/ 

...  .  1  1    1  1  •  rv  •  •     heredity. 

ity  lacking,  he  would  be  different  in  apti- 
tude, in  capacity,  in  very  form  and  appear- 
ance. The  absence  of  some  faculty,  the 
feebleness  of  some  disposition  in  some  one 
or  other  of  his  ancestors,  were  sufficient  to 
vary  the  results  in  his  own  person.  Ah  ! 
they  thoughtfully  and  sadly  exclaimed,  if 
only  full-grown  men  and  full-grown  women, 
with  sound  bodies  and  sound  minds,  were 
permitted  to  marry !  Conscience,  integ- 
rity, and  reason,  as  far  as  possible,  were 
educated  to  that  end. 


The  population  was  of  many  races  com-ACoMPos- 
pounded.     The  blood  of  many  peoples  had  thw.  °p 
been  infused  into  it.     So  composite  in  its 
character,  social  problems  had   been  slow 
of  solution.     Prejudices  of  race  had  been 


tagonisnts. 


114  Sub-Ccclum 

a  great  hindrance.  The  more  refined  and 
gentle  had  been  shy  of  the  rude  and  ag- 
gressive. Conservatism  had  resisted  the 
clamors  of  new  blood.  Power  grew  timid 
from  variance   of   interests    and   suscepti- 

sharpan-  bility  of  change.  Sharp  antagonisms  kept 
society  continually  at  the  point  of  boiling. 
Good  had  come  of  all  this  clashing  and  fer- 
mentation ;  but  the  people  wearied  of  it. 
Reaction  was  inevitable.  It  came  ;  and 
with  it  a  disposition  to  liberality.  Fusion 
seemed  not  so  difficult.  Opponents  cooled, 
or  went  arm-in-arm.  Individuals  graciously 
cooperated  for  the  public  weal.  Notions 
gave  place  to  opinion,  and  opinion  to 
reasonable  judgment.  Where  clamor  had 
been  bedlam,  deliberation  reigned.  Like 
a  mighty  stream  of  many  tributaries,  pro- 
gress was  no  longer  checked  and  fretted 
by  obstructing  jealousies  and  hatreds. 
Minor  differences,  in  thought  and  in  action, 

Racepreju-  were  tolerated.  Race  prejudices  gradually 
gave  way,  and  bigotries.  Fibres  intermin- 
gled and  blood  interfused.  Distinctions 
were  obliterated  by  intermarriage.  Free- 
dom of  taste  was  indulged.  So  many 
varieties,  the  faculty  of  discerning  enjoyed 
great  scope.  Each  race  had  supplied  its 
characteristics,   physical,  intellectual,   and 


dices 


Vigorous  Men  and  Women         115 

moral.  Temperaments,  from  the  frigid  to 
the  fiery,  were  in  contact.  Every  color  of 
hair  and  almost  every  tint  of  complexion.  Every  tint 
Voices  coarse,  and  musical  as  Apollo's  ion. 
lute.  Noses  straight,  aquiline,  and  snub. 
Ears  delicately  transparent  and  ears  rudely 
drooping.  Lips  refined  and  lips  voluptu- 
ous. Deep  chests  and  shallow,  with  great 
lungs  and  feeble.  Muscles  of  ropes  and 
apologies  for  muscles.  Alexanders  tall 
and  Thumbs  diminutive.  Bearded  and 
beardless.  Every  variety  of  man  and 
woman  to  select  from.  Marriage  was  not 
interfered  with,  except  in  cases  of  close 
relationship.  Complexions,  as  a  result, 
were  often  very  striking  and  beautiful,  and 
figures  produced  of  remarkable  mould. 
Vigorous  men  and  women  were  the  rule. 
The  exceptionally  puny  of  both  sexes,  kept 
apart,  not  considering  themselves  proper 
subjects    for    wedlock.      The    population  Thepopuia. 

, . .       .  .    .  T  .     Hon  steadily 

steadily  improved  in  every  respect.  Intel-  improved. 
lcct  was  quickened  and  the  heart  softened. 
Temperament,  especially,  was  refreshed 
and  stimulated.  Emotion  was  indulged ; 
feeling  was  exhibited  without  exciting  de- 
rision. Children  were  born  happy,  and 
were  not  regretted.  Grace  was  in  their 
attitudes  and  music  in  their  voices.     Na- 


/ 1 6  Sub-Cool  it  m 

ture  had  free  sway.  Aptitudes  developed 
early.  Inherited  traits  were  conspicuous. 
It  was  soon  perceived  what  the  child 
desired,  and  was  born  to  do,  and  he  was 
educated  and  encouraged  accordingly.  It 
a  maxim  of  was  a  maxim  of   one  of   their  sages,  and 

one  of  their  _  _       .  ,    , 

sages.  they  acted  upon  it :  (Ji  that  which  a  man 
desires  in  his  youth,  of  that  he  shall  have 
in  age  as  much  as  he  will.  Elements  of 
power  and  culture  were  realized  in  conse- 
quence. Love  of  thought  and  love  for  the 
beautiful  appeared  spontaneous  and  upper- 
most. The  man  or  woman  was  what  na- 
ture meant  him  or  her  to  be.  Old  family 
portraits  showed  many  shades  of  complex- 
ion and  great  variety  of  conformation.  Ex- 
tremes met  in  every  collection.  Faces  so 
dark  as  to  require  light  backgrounds  to 
make  them  distinctly  visible  were  close 
beside    others,    delicate,    fair,    and    rosy. 

contrasts.  Rudeness  and  coarseness  contrasted  with 
high-breeding  and  refinement.  Looking  at 
the  differing  portraits,  it  was  not  difficult  to 
account  for  their  liberal  and  enlightened 
civilization.  Nature,  in  a  fateful,  myste- 
rious way,  had  propitiously  brought  about 
the  inevitable.  Toleration  and  upward 
growth  were  necessities.  They  must  re- 
spect each  other,  and  be  better. 


foys  of  Wedlock  iiy 

Weddings  in  Sub-Coelum  were  strictly  weddings 
private  and  unostentatious.  Not  that  mar-  ccelum. 
riage  was  more  uncertain  there  than  in  any- 
other  part  of  the  universe.  It  was  a  test 
of  character,  the  result  of  which  was  every- 
where and  always  past  anticipating.  The 
least  promising  often  turned  out  the  best, 
was  a  proverb.  The  miseries  of  wedlock, 
they  said,  were  to  be  numbered  among 
those  evils  which  cannot  be  prevented,  and 
must  only  be  endured  with  patience  and 
palliated  with  judgment.  Its  joys  were  the 
greatest  known  to  mankind  —  inestimable 
and   inexhaustible.      The  dream    of   hope  The  dream 

of  hope  and 

and   expectation,  when    realized,  was  the  expectation. 
one  incomparable  and  never-ending  felicity. 
The  worse   than    blanks  with   the   prizes 
made  the  drawing  always  dangerous,  and  it 
was  deemed  prudent  to  postpone  the  cele- 
bration till  a  year  or  two  after  the  wedding. 
These  occasions  of  rejoicing  were  frequent, 
and  were  participated  in  heartily  by  friends 
and  relations.     Fate  and  fortune  had  been 
bounteous,  and  thanksgiving  was  sponta- 
neous.   Fact  was  commemorated,  not  hope 
celebrated ;     happiness     was     realized,  — 
better  than  all  anticipation.     Man  and  wife  Man  and 
were   congratulated,  not  bride  and  bride-  gratuiated. 
groom.     Whatever  of   fret    and  irritation 


n8 


Sub-C&ltim 


Ideal  was 
real. 


had  been  experienced,  the  calm  had  come, 
and  the  open  sea,  with  a  bright  sky  over 
all.  Ideal  was  real.  Misconception  had 
given  way,  and  each  appeared  better  to  the 
other,  though  different.  They  understood 
each  other,  and  were  incorporated.  A 
child  perhaps  had  blessed  the  union,  and 
the  household  was  a  home,  in  all  that  the 
word  implied.  Presents  were  simple  and 
appropriate  —  useful  and  to  be  used  —  and 
were  not  in  any  sense  satirizing  or  vainly 
showy.  A  different  moral  atmosphere 
pervaded  one  of  these  commemorations 
than  that  of  a  bridal  celebration.  At  the 
wedding,  mystery  and  uncertainty  made  the 
thoughtful  grave  ;  only  the  giddy  were  un- 
qualifiedly joyous.  Shadows  and  clouds 
did  not  appear  to  their  hopeful  eyes.  Plain 
sailing  only  was  thought  of,  without  variable 
or  conflicting  winds.  Compounding  incom- 
patibles  had  not  entered  into  their  intel- 
lectual chemistry.  Fusing  dissimilar  na- 
tures they  had  not  thought  of  as  one  of  the 
Theimpir-  difficult  thin gs  under  the  sun.     Love,  the 

ing  amal-  , 

gam.  inspiring  amalgam  in   their  theory  of  life, 

would  as  often  fail  as  succeed  in  the  con- 
flict of  diversities.  Interest  and  necessity 
and  pride  did  not  enter  into  their  calcula- 
tions of  connubial  existence.    They  did  not 


The  Omnipotence  of  Silence         i  \  g 

calculate  at  all  ;  they  only  dreamed.  Con- 
cession, compromise,  surrender,  they  did 
not  see  as  necessities.  The  omnipotence 
of  silence,  in  extremity,  was  not  compre- 
hended. Wise  Sub-Ccelumites,  to  celebrate 
marriage  a  year  or  two  after  the  wedding 
ceremony  ! 


At   one    time   six    unmarried    persons,  rhasons 

for  Re- 
maining 
Single. 


three  of  each  sex  —  guests  at  one  of  their  mainwg 


unpretending  watering-places — were  in  a 
sail-boat  together,  becalmed.  For  enter- 
tainment, it  was  determined  that  each  one 
should  tell  the  rest,  in  a  word,  why  he  or 
she  had  remained  single.  Acquaintances 
but  for  a  week,  and  not  likely  ever  to  meet 
again  after  a  fortnight,  they  spoke  with 
unqualified  frankness.  Of  uncertain  age, 
they  were  not  without  experience. 

The  first  to  speak  was  a  gentleman,  say  rhefirstto 
of  forty-five  or  fifty  years.  The  governing  spea" 
reason,  he  said,  why  he  had  not  married, 
was  self-distrust.  Early  experience  had 
taught  him  the  inconvenience,  if  not  the 
distresses,  of  poverty.  He  remembered 
the  sacrifices  of  his  mother,  and  had  re- 
solved that  his  wife,  if  fated  to  have  one, 
should  not  be  subjected  to  like  expedients 
and   hardships.     At  twenty  he  was  enam- 


120 


Sub-Ccelum 


She  fasci- 
nated him. 


A  nxicnis 
days  and 
sleepless 
nights. 


ored  of  a  fair  girl  —  the  fairest,  by  far,  he 
ever  had  seen.  She  filled  his  eye,  his 
mind's  eye,  his  imagination.  She  was  very 
lovely.  He  was  shy  of  her  presence,  but 
he  could  not  keep  entirely  away  from  her  ; 
she  fascinated  him  completely.  He  had  the 
will  of  a  full-grown  man,  with  a  few  years 
of  initiatory  experience  in  a  respectable 
occupation  ;  but  all,  indeed,  of  real  life, 
was  yet  before  him.  He  did  not  know  the 
stuff  of  manhood  that  was  in  him :  he  had 
not  been  measured  and  tried  by  affairs. 
His  intellectual  and  moral  grappling-irons 
might  be  unequal  to  the  grasp  that  was 
necessary  even  to  ordinary  success.  He 
dared  not  meet  the  incomparable  girl 
alone — he  was  sure  to  tell  her  he  loved 
her  if  he  did.  There  was  not  a  word  or  a 
caress  that  all  the  world  might  not  have 
heard  or  seen.  He  subjected  himself  to 
severest  self-questioning.  If  he  asked  her 
and  she  said  yes,  what  was  he  to  do  with 
her  ?  Over  and  over  he  turned  the  prob- 
lem in  his  mind,  through  anxious  days  and 
sleepless  nights.  Not  without  many  a 
struggle  he  distrustingly  determined  that 
he  had  no  right  to  ask  her  —  the  all-worthy 
incarnation  of  super-excellence — to  take 
the  chances  of  life  with  him.     Heaven  sent 


Violence  of  Disposition  121 

her  a  more  courageous  lover,  and  she  died 
an  idolized  wife  and  mother.  He  might 
say  he  had  prospered  in  the  world ;  but  he 
had  never  met  with  another  who  was  the 
same  in  his  eyes  and  affections.  And  was 
it  possible  he  could  love  one  inferior  to 
her? 

The  next  gentleman  to  speak  was  riienext 
younger  by  a  few  years.  He  had  a  devil 
of  a  temper,  he  said,  and  all  of  his  life  he 
had  been  afraid  of  its  consequences. 
Quick  as  a  flash,  he  had  once  thrown  a 
hatchet  at  a  boy  for  a  slight  indignity. 
Placid  as  he  appeared,  the  violence  of  his 
nature  could  not  be  comprehended.  With 
plenty  of  red  in  his  complexion  ordinarily, 
in  a  rage  he  turned  white  as  a  sheet.  In 
one  of  his  fits  he  dared  not  look  at  himself 
in  the  glass.  At  such  times  a  vicious 
grandfather  looked  out  of  his  eyes.  The 
dangerous  old  man  was  a  terror  as  long  as 
he  lived.  Two  or  three  times  he  had  been 
locked  up  as  insane.  He  himself  was  in 
constant  dread  of  the  same  treatment.     He  in  constant 

....  .  .  ,  ,     ,  dread. 

did  his  utmost  to  govern  himself ;  but  once 
in  a  while,  in  spite  of  all  that  he  could  do, 
the  Satanic  in  him  would  break  loose. 
His  acquaintances  were  chosen  for  their 
forbearance  and  placidity.     He  had  an  eye 


ture 


122  Sub-Carl  urn 

to  the  same  traits  in  his  employees,  and 
paid  a  premium  for  them.  Once,  a  con- 
flict with  one  of  his  workmen  nearly  cost 

His  evil  no-  him  his  life.  He  had  also  exposed  his 
evil  disposition  in  a  court  of  justice,  while 
giving  his  testimony.  Through  the  good 
influence  of  his  mother  he  became  a  mem- 
ber of  a  church  society ;  but  his  dread  of 
becoming  a  disturbing  element  made  him 
withdraw  from  it.  His  best  reliance  as  a 
safeguard  was  his  ability  to  control  a 
strong  appetite  for  drink.  The  possibili- 
ties of  his  evil  nature  were  terrifying 
enough  without  artificial  stimulation. 
Think  of  it  !  A  man  with  such  tendencies 
to  marry  !  God  help  the  poor  woman  who 
risked  a  union  with  him  !  The  novel  irri- 
tations of  the  relation  would  have  been 
sure  to  develop  the  bad  in  him  preter- 
naturally.      The  tiger  and  serpent  might 

oneexperi-  never  be  wholly  quiescent  or  torpid.  One 
experience  of  the  tender  passion,  he  said, 
was  enough.  His  sweetheart  had  know- 
ledge of  his  success  in  the  world,  and 
seemed  disposed  to  encourage  his  suit. 
She  was  not  suspicious,  and  would  not  be- 
lieve what  was  told  to  her.  Her  own  body 
and  soul  in  perfect  health  —  without  an 
evil  inclination  that  could  be  perceived  — 


ence  enough. 


The  Passion  of  Passions  123 

how  could  she  believe  it  —  the  least  part 
of  it?  Confidence  inspired  affection  — 
devotion.  The  joys  of  wedlock  were 
dreamed  of  in  a  way,  for  the  time  being,  to 
transform  his  nature.  The  Satanic  was 
forgotten  in  the  glories  awakened  by  the 
passion  of   passions.     When  an  old  lover  Anoidiover 

r  appeared. 

made  his  appearance !  New  eyes  were 
given  him.  Dazed  at  first,  he  soon  saw 
falsely.  Jealousy  took  possession  of  him. 
A  scene  ensued.  He  was  understood,  and 
dreaded,  of  course,  and  there  was  a  separa- 
tion. The  misery  that  sweet  woman  es- 
caped ! 

The  third  gentleman  said  he  felt  some  The  third 

,     gentleman's 

reluctance  about  telling  his  story,  as  it  story. 
might  appear  to  bear  a  little  hard  upon  the 
other  sex.  But  the  case  was  exceptional, 
and  he  would  be  excused.  He  had  met 
the  lady  at  two  dinner-parties,  but  never 
at  home.  He  had  been  struck  by  her 
gracefulness  and  ease  of  manner,  and  by 
her  brilliancy  in  conversation.  She  had 
charmed  him  as  he  had  never  been  charmed 
before.  He  determined  to  visit  her,  as 
they  say,  with  a  view  to  matrimony.  The 
reception  was  cordial,  and  he  was  delighted  Reception 

.   ,  cordial. 

with  the  prospect.  The  beautiful  girl  was 
more  attractive  than  ever.     Her  graceful 


124  Sub-Caium 

person  was  exquisitely  adorned.    Her  eyes 
Tact  and  in- -were  brighter  than  diamonds.     Tact  and 

teffigencc  in 

conduct  and  intelligence     marked     her     conduct     and 

speech.  ° 

speech.  Her  music  was  finished  and 
chaste  :  one  of  her  songs  touched  him  par- 
ticularly :  emotion  was  in  every  note  of  it : 
it  reminded  him  of  much  that  had  been 
delightful  in  his  varied  life.  The  drawing- 
rooms  were  adorned  in  an  elegant  manner. 
Mirrors,  the  costliest,  were  on  the  walls. 
Carpets  of  velvet  softened  and  warmed  the 
floors.  The  rugs  were  pictures.  In  the 
midst  of  his  enjoyment  it  began  to  storm, 
and  it  continued  to  storm,  violently,  with- 
out intermission.  It  was  a  wild  night.  Far 
away  from  his  lodgings,  he  was  obliged  to 
accept  further  hospitalities.  The  chamber 
he  occupied  was  in  such  contrast  with  the 
salon  he  had  just  left  that  he  was  dum- 
founded.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  collected 
Lost  in  the   his  scattered  wits  ;  but  he  felt  lost  in  the 

changed  sit-  .       .  .  .  ...  _ 

nation  and  changed  situation  and  conditions.  Every- 
thing in  the  room  had  a  neglected  look. 
The  draperies  were  faded  and  mean.  In- 
hospitableness  was  in  every  detail.  The 
bed  was  most  uninviting.  The  linen  was 
not  clean  nor  fresh.  The  contents  of  the 
pillows  were  not  eider-down  by  far  ;  and 
they  were  lumpy,  and  had  an  unwholesome 


conditions. 


The  Truth  Revealed  to  Him         125 

smell.  The  storm,  and  the  revelation  of 
neglect,  and  the  miserable  disappointment, 
made  a  very  uneasy  night  for  him.  The  An  uneasy 
breakfast-room  had  the  same  neglected '"' 
look  and  the  same  noisome  smell.  The 
carpet  had  one  great  offensive  spot  upon  it 
that  had  never  been  forgotten.  The  muffins 
and  omelet  were  overdone,  and  the  coffee 
was  muddy.  The  drawing-rooms,  after  the 
night's  and  morning's  experience,  appeared 
affectedly  fine  indeed,  and  confused  all  his 
memories  and  previous  impressions.  He 
took  his  leave  a  wiser  but  not  a  happier 
man.  He  was  sorry  to  have  had  the  truth 
revealed  to  him  in  such  an  unexpected 
way.  The  thoughtlessness  of  the  impos- 
ture had  surprised  him  beyond  measure. 
To  call  such  a  household  a  home  seemed  a 
monstrous  misuse  of  the  word.  Could  it 
be  possible  for  one  bred  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere to  comprehend  what  a  home  should 
be  ?  All  idea  of  cleanliness  and  comfort 
had  been  lost  in  affectations,  disguises,  and 
self-delusion.  He  frequently  met  the 
young  woman  afterwards,  but  never  other- 
wise than  as  an  acquaintance  :  the  disillu-  Thedisiiiu. 

siott. 

sion  had  divested  her  of  all  attractiveness. 
The  world  took  possession  of  him  —  its 
cares    and    responsibilities.      Burdens   of 


126  Sub-Ccclum 

others  came  upon  him,  one  after  another, 
and  he  believed  he  was  contributing  to  the 
common  stock  of  happiness.  It  was  not 
likely  that  he  would  entertain  thoughts  of 
matrimony  again. 
The  first  The  first  lady  to  speak  was  strikingly 
speak.  attractive,  from  her  beauty  of  health  and 
perfection  of  maturity.  She  might  have 
stood  for  Juno  in  sculpture.  She  said  she 
would  be  frank  as  the  rest,  and  tell  her 
story  without  let  or  disguises.  The  gov- 
erning cause  of  her  single-blessedness,  she 
said,  was  discovered  by  the  professor  in 
the  examination  of  her  head,  when  he  pro- 
nounced her  exceptionally  small  in  philo- 
progenitiveness.  Where  a  bump  ought  to 
be,  was  found  a  perceptible  cavity.  When 
this  organ  was  small,  science  taught,  there 
would  be  shown  lukewarm  attachment  for 
children ;  they  would  not  be  esteemed  a 
blessing ;  weariness  and  impatience  would 
be  felt  in  their  company ;  their  prattle 
would  not  be  tolerated.  Her  experience 
shecmdd  was  in  confirmation  of  science  :  she  could 
children,  not  abide  children,  except  in  very  rare 
cases.  As  studies  merely,  as  a  rule,  they 
had  been  interesting  to  her.  Young  ani- 
mals of  other  species  were  about  as  engag- 
ing.   As  she  could  not  help  this  perversion, 


Two  Husbands  12J 

she  had  yielded  to  it  reluctantly.  It  was 
not  pleasant  to  be  out  of  nature  in  such 
an  extraordinary  way.  It  made  marriage 
—  the  haven  of  happiness  to  most  women  — 
impracticable  to  her.     She  had  dreamed,  she  had 

-  .  r    i       •  dreamed  of 

time  and  again,  of  maternity  —  of  being  maternity. 
surrounded  by  her  own  children  ;  and  the 
joy  of  relief  upon  awaking  was  spasmodic. 
Other  loves  than  those  of  motherhood  had 
been  vouchsafed  to  her.  She  had  two 
husbands,  so  to  speak,  —  literature  and  art. 
Never  a  day  was  long  to  her  with  a  good 
book  for  company.  Belles  -  lettres,  in  all 
that  it  included,  was  ever  fresh  and  abound- 
ing in  interest.  Life  in  literature  was  the 
life  she  most  relished.  She  could  enter 
into  it  or  quit  it  at  will.  The  creatures 
and  personages  of  books  did  not  need  to 
be  petted  and  flattered :  unceremonious 
usage  did  not  offend  them.  Pictures  she 
enjoyed,  and  sometimes  painted,  in  a  poor 
way.  Her  sense  of  vision  was  helped  by 
the  pastime.  She  saw  more,  the  more  she 
drew  and   colored.      The   possibilities   of  Thefossibu- 

ities  of  tints. 

tints  were  a  perpetual  surprise  to  her. 
Sometimes  she  essayed  portraiture,  but 
only  in  attempts  to  portray  manhood  in 
rare  specimens.  All  of  her  powers  were 
in  best  employment  at  such  times.     Lines 


128  Sitb-Caium 

of  thought  in  a  thoughtful  face  it  was  her 
chief  pleasure  and  ambition  to  trace.  Com- 
plexions of  women  and  children  were  too 
delicate  for  her  brush,  as  were  all  expres- 
sions of  effeminacy  and  softness.  The 
bold,  the  strong,  the  manly,  excited  her  to 
Marriedto   utmost  effort.     So   married    to   print  and 

print  and  .  , 

canvas.  canvas,  what  more  could  she  desire  ?  She 
had  had  lovers  —  not  a  few.  One  poor 
fellow  adored  her,  and  threatened  self- 
destruction  if  she  did  not  marry  him. 
Another  was  diverted  in  his  homage  by 
the  fascinations  of  the  card-table.  Ap- 
proaches of  others  were  discouraged  as 
waste  of  the  emotions.  Nature  had  ap- 
pointed her  to  a  single  life.  Her  destiny 
had  been  predetermined  from  the  founda- 
tion. The  daughters  of  Erebus  and  Night 
were  executing  the  decrees  of  Nature  with 
inexorable  decision.  Their  ministers,  the 
Furies,  had  not  been  necessary  ;  there  was 
no  resistance. 

The  second  The  second  lady  said  that  a  few  facts, 
simply  stated,  would  satisfactorily  account 
for  her  voluntary  maidenhood.  She  was 
the  eldest  of  five  children.  When  she  was 
only  ten  years  old  her  mother  became  a 
hopeless  invalid,  and  the  cares  of  a  full- 
grown  woman  were  suddenly  imposed  upon 


lady. 


Self -Sacrifice  I2g 

her.  She  gave  up  all  —  head,  heart, 
hands  —  to  her  mother  and  brothers  and 
sisters.  The  youngest  was  a  mere  baby, 
and  you  must  know  the  constant  attention 
he  exacted.  Her  father  was  kind,  perhaps, 
in  his  way ;  but  he  was  a  confirmed  hypo-  Her  father 
chondnac,  forever  groaning  and  complain-  driac. 
ing  of  everything.  God  and  nature  were 
at  enmity  with  him,  he  said.  Smileless 
and  discouraging,  his  presence  was  a  per- 
petual blight.  He  never  said  a  generous, 
inspiring  thing  to  any  one  of  them  that 
she  remembered.  Unconsciously  selfish, 
his  whole  thought  was  of  himself  and  his 
imagined  distresses.  The  looking-glass 
was  his  great  resource  in  his  absorbingly 
self-pitying  moods.  He  would  pull  at  his 
beard  and  penetrate  the  lines  in  his  face, 
and  sighingly  wonder  what  other  tortures 
were  in  reserve  for  him.  Any  misfortune 
or  crisis  in  the  family,  instead  of  stimu- 
lating his  humanity  and  sympathy,  only 
increased  his  malady.  When  his  wife  suf- 
fered most,  he  was  most  jealous  of  atten- 
tions to  her.  He  bemoaned  himself  and  Bemoaned 
groaned,  when  a  little  bit  of  self-sacrifice  groaned!™ 
and  tenderness  would  have  brought  sun- 
shine into  the  joyless  household,  and  light- 
ened all  its  burdens.     The  baby  died  when 


/  jo  Sub-Coelutn 

he  was  scarcely  three  years  old.  The 
blue-eyed  cherub  !  His  death  was  a  great 
blow.  Her  cares  were  lessened  by  it ;  but 
there  was  an  aching  void.  A  record  of  the 
The  solemn  solemn    entombment    was    in    everything 

entombment.      ,  .     .  r^  •    1  1  r     1   • 

about  her.  Special  remembrance  of  him 
always  occasioned  a  pang.  Strange  to  say, 
the  death  of  the  little  fellow  seemed  to 
give  relief  to  his  mother,  and  she  grew 
perceptibly  better,  though  still  bed-ridden, 
to  remain  so  till  she  died.  He  is  better 
off,  she  would  quietly  say,  with  a  touching 
smile  of  self-consolation.  The  girl-children 
were  lovely,  and  grew  in  helpfulness. 
There  was  nothing  they  would  not  do. 
The  boy  was  always  manly,  and  rapidly 
developed  the  most  genuine  traits.  He 
seemed  preternaturally  strong  and  wise. 
His  hopefulness  and  sturdy  self-confidence 
gave  joy  to  them  all.  He  acquired  and 
thought,  and  every  day  grew  in  intellectual 
stature.  You  shall  see  what  will  be  done 
Pride  and  for  you,  he  sometimes  proudly  and  heroic- 
ally said.  The  world  soon  recognized  his 
abilities  and  manhood.  His  advancement 
was  steady  and  sure,  and  he  soon  ranked 
an  exceptionally  prosperous  man.  The 
desire  of  his  great  heart  was  realized,  and 
the  family  at  home  enjoyed  more  and  more 


heroism. 


A  Generous  Annuity  131 

his  fostering  care.  The  girls  married  gen- 
tlemen, well-to-do  and  generous.  Their 
father  was  indulged  and  their  mother 
cherished  and  petted.  Ah!  the  smile  of  SmUeo/re- 
rejoicing  that  illuminated  her  invalid  face, 
after  all  her  trials  and  miseries.  A  word 
or  two  more  would  complete  all  that  was 
necessary  to  relate  of  her  story.  Her 
noble  brother  and  grateful  sisters  had 
settled  a  generous  annuity  upon  her ;  and 
her  life  was  as  free  as  that  of  any  woman 
could  be.  She  was  getting  the  most  out  of 
it  that  was  possible  to  her,  and  she  be- 
lieved she  had  no  complaint  to  make  of 
fortune  or  condition. 

The   third  and  last  spoke  with  a  little  The  third 

.    .  _,  ,.  and  last. 

more  spirit.  1  he  preceding  statement 
made  her  own  less  difficult.  While  her 
experiences  had  been  alike  bitter,  they  had 
been  more  tragical.  She  also  had  been  a 
victim  of  circumstances  ;  the  miseries  of 
unfortunate  marriage  had  been  indelibly 
impressed  upon  her.  They  had  been 
brought  home  to  her  in  a  way  to  make  her 
hesitate  about  accepting  an  attractive  offer, 
in  all  respects  promising.  The  marriage  a  marriage 
of  her  father  and  mother  had  been  one  of  "don. 
blind  passion  or  affection.  Friends  had 
urged  a  postponement,  to  give  a  little  time 


132  Sttb-Ccehim 

for  consideration ;  but  both  were  infat- 
uated, and  would  not  live  apart,  even  for  a 
short  season.  Her  father  was  handsome 
and  gay ;  devoted  to  the  world  and  its 
pleasures ;  governed  without  limit  by  his 
Appetite  for  impulses.  His  appetite  for  drink  in- 
creased.  creased ;  and  indulgence  soon  became  dis- 
sipation. Evil  associations  made  him  rude 
and  reckless.  He  changed  from  what  they 
called  a  gentleman  to  a  brute.  He  abused 
his  wife  in  outrageous  ways.  The  narra- 
tor called  attention  to  the  mark  on  her 
mouth,  the  same  exactly  as  the  scar  left 
on  the  lip  of  her  mother  by  the  heel  of  her 
husband,  months  before  she  was  born. 
Daughter  and  mother  with  the  same  in- 
effaceable memorial  of  brutality  !  Her 
father,  she  said,  had  tried  to  be  kind  to 
her  sometimes  while  she  was  a  child ;  but 
long  before  she  became  a  woman  every- 
thing like  affection  had  disappeared  from 
his  conduct.  He  even  hated  her,  as  he 
did  her  mother.  A  complete  transforma- 
tion had  taken  place.  He  had  grown  to 
Three/aces,  be  a  monster.     He  seemed  to  have  three 

like  Cefb€' 

rus.  faces,   like  Cerberus,   every  one   of   them 

cruel ;  and  each  one  had  the  remorseless 
evil  eye.  To  get  behind  him,  and  to  es- 
cape the  fatal  look,  was  impossible.     He 


Moral  Atmospheres  1 33 

saw  all,  and  suspected  more.  Physician, 
clergyman,  friends,  male  and  female,  were 
objects  of  his  suspicion  and  jealousy. 
You  talk  about  moral  atmospheres  !  Think 
of  living  in  one  of  profanity  and  drunken-  Profanity. 
ness  !  Recollections  of  what  she  and  her 
mother  endured,  terrified  her.  An  in- 
cubus was  upon  their  lives,  asleep  and 
awake.  Certain  demoniac  noises  and 
oaths  came  to  them  in  ways  to  threaten 
reason.  Pandemonium  could  not  produce 
worse.  From  bad  to  distressing  the 
wretched  days  continued;  till  one  night 
the  monster  was  brought  home  dead,  with 
a  bullet  in  his  brain  by  his  own  hand.  His 
poor,  relieved,  heart-broken  wife  survived 
him  a  few  weeks.  Her  life  went  out  in 
agony.  The  event  of  her  own  marriage, 
often  talked  over  with  her  mother,  and 
postponed  at  her  request,  would  be  con- 
summated in  the  early  autumn.  Her  lover 
was  acquainted  with  every  circumstance  of 
her  life,  even  to  the  birth-mark  on  her  lip,  rite  birth- 
and  had  many  times  befriended  her  and 
her  mother  at  the  risk  of  his  existence. 
He  was  a  noble  fellow,  and  she  dared  hope 
for  happiness  the  remnant  of  her  days. 

Something  like  a  breeze,  by  this  time, 
was  seen  to  ruffle  the  surface  of  the  sea, 


i}4  Sub-Ccelum 

a  mile  away,  or  less.  One  said  it  was  a 
school  of  mackerel  on  the  way  to  Arcturus. 
Howbeit,  they  made  sail ;  and  Zephyrus 
came  gently  to  fill  it,  and  bear  them  away 
to  their  several  hostelries. 

drunken-  Even  the  Sub-Coelumites  found  drunken- 
ness the  most  stubborn  of  all  the  social 
evils.  Though  rare,  they  found  it  impos- 
sible to  abolish  it  utterly.  Destroying  the 
effects  of  alcohol  was  like  annihilating  the 
archenemy.  They  believed  implicitly  with 
the  poet,  that  the  loved  and  hated  thing 
was  introduced  by  Satan  into  the  tree  of 
knowledge  before  the  primal  pair  partook 
of  it,  and  was  attended  with  the  same  ef- 
fects that  had  followed  it  ever  since.  Con- 
firmed drunkenness  they  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  virulent  of  moral  and  physical 
diseases,  and  they  took  every  pains  to  pro- 
tect society  against  it.  Some  idea  may  be 
had  of  their  success  by  remembering  the 
early  excesses  of  one  of  the  countries  that 
had  supplied  them  with  much  of  their  pop- 

a  matter  o/ \x\3X\0n.  They  had  history  for  it  that  on 
the  signboards  of  noted  gin-shops  in  that 
country  it  was  announced  that  a  customer 
might  get  drunk  for  a  penny,  and  dead 
drunk  for  two-pence,    and  have  straw  for 


Early  Excesses  135 

nothing.  Faith  was  kept  by  providing 
cellars  strewn  with  straw,  on  which  the 
customer  who  had  got  his  two-pennyworth 
was  deposited  till  he  was  ready  to  recom- 
mence. Higher,  socially,  excesses  were  as 
extreme,  but  different.    They  had  the  state-  statement 

_  ,  .  .  of  a  noble 

ment  of  a  noble  writer  that  he  was  present  writer. 
at  an  entertainment  where  a  celebrated 
lady  of  pleasure  was  one  of  the  party,  and 
her  shoe  was  pulled  off  by  a  young  man, 
who  filled  it  with  champagne  and  drank  it 
off  to  her  health.  In  this  delicious  draught 
he  was  immediately  pledged  by  the  rest, 
and  then,  to  carry  the  compliment  still 
further,  he  ordered  the  shoe  itself  to  be 
dressed  and  served  up  for  supper.  The 
cook  set  himself  to  work  upon  it ;  he 
pulled  the  upper  part  of  it,  which  was  of 
damask,  into  fine  shreds,  and  tossed  it 
up  in  a  ragout ;  minced  the  sole,  cut  the 
wooden  heel  into  very  thin  slices,  fried 
them  in  butter,  and  placed  them  round  the 
dish  for  garnish.  The  company  testified 
their  affection  for  the  lady  by  eating  very 
heartily  of  the  impromptu.    The  authorities  Authorities 

J  r  tr  prompt  to 

of    Sub-Coelum    were   prompt    to  grant   a  act. 
divorcement  of  man  and  wife  when  either 
became  a  victim  of  drunkenness.     Hospi- 
tals were    established    for   confining  and 


1 36 


Sub-Ccelum 


Licenses  to 
marry  cau- 
tiously 
granted. 


treating  it,  not  without  hopeful  conse- 
quences. Licenses  to  marry  were  not 
granted  without  inquiry  as  to  the  habits 
of  applicants  and  their  progenitors.  Ten- 
dency to  intoxication,  even,  was  alarming, 
and  might  entail  itself.  Prevention  was 
the  only  sure  remedy.  Indeed,  no  short 
list  of  questions  must  be  answered  satis- 
factorily, under  oath,  before  a  license  could 
be  obtained.  Drunkenness  was  not  the 
only  evil  that  society  did  its  utmost  to 
cure,  to  limit,  and  to  prevent.  Diseases 
that  rot  the  moral  and'  physical  structure 
were  searchingly  hunted  out  and  pursued 
while  a  visible  remnant  of  them  remained 
to  taint  the  generations.  Habitual  lying, 
hypocrisy,  and  dishonesty  were  recognized 
moral  diseases.  A  deliberate  breach  of 
trust  was  such  a  monstrous  crime  in  their 
moral  code  that  the  name  and  blood  of  the 
perpetrator  were  not  perpetuated.  Society 
held  itself  not  guiltless  if  it  permitted  the 
odium  of  serious  crime  to  descend  upon  the 
irresponsible  and  innocent,  to  say  nothing 
of  possible  continuance. 


Divorce.  While  there  were  other  legal  causes  of 
divorce  than  drunkenness,  the  authorities 
were  slow  in  acting  upon  them.     Separa- 


Must  Live  Together  i^j 

tions  were  oftener  authorized  than  divorces. 
The  theory  and  rule  of  their  civilization 
were,  that  husband  and  wife  must  live  to- 
gether,  and  not   be  long  separated.     Es-  Estrange. 

...  .  .  ment  pro- 

trangement  was  provided  against  in  every  vided 
possible  way.  Trifling  differences  between 
married  people  were  not  patiently  consid- 
ered. A  custom  of  the  olden  time  became 
a  rule  of  action  in  their  courts.  When  a 
quarrelsome  couple  applied  for  a  divorce, 
the  magistrate  did  not  listen  to  them.  Be- 
fore deciding  upon  the  case,  he  locked 
them  up  for  three  days,  in  the  same  room, 
with  one  bed,  one  table,  one  plate,  and  one 
tumbler.  Their  food  was  passed  in  to 
them  by  attendants  who  neither  saw  nor 
spoke  to  them.  When  they  came  out,  at 
the  end  of  three  days,  neither  of  them 
wanted  to  be  divorced. 

Victims  of  occasional  intoxication  were  refuges 
kindly  provided  for  by  the  establishment  tain  occa- 

,  t  .  .  SIONAL  VlC- 

of  Refuges,  for  their  care  and  protection,  mis. 
Fortunately,  they  were  not  many,  and  the 
wonder  was  they  were  so  few,  considering 
the  exigencies  and  extremities  of  even 
exceptional  human  life,  and  that  the  vast 
majority  there,  as  elsewhere,  were  gov- 
erned by  their  passions  and  emotions,  and 


138  Sub-Ccclum 

not  by  their  judgment.  Reason,  there,  as 
everywhere,  was  the  property  of  the  chosen 
few.  Living  to-day  upon  the  experience 
of  yesterday,  and  so  providing  for  the  mor- 
row, if  it  come,  was  easier  of  philosophic 
The/acuity  statement  than  practice.  The  faculty  of 
ins  in  the  continuing  in  the  right  way,  without  being 
once  in  a  while  turned  aside  by  folly  or 
temptation,  was  not  given  to  common 
mortality:  it  was  a  rare  endowment  —  the 
gift  of  God.  Their  stream  of  life,  also,  had 
its  numberless  eddies,  to  obstruct  and  hin- 
der. Caught  by  them,  and  whirled  about, 
it  was  difficult  to  get  themselves  back  into 
the  current  the  same  creatures  as  before, 
to  enjoy  again,  in  the  same  healthful  way, 
the  inspiration  of  progress.  Maelstroms, 
indeed,  they  sometimes  proved  to  be, 
wrecking  hopelessly,  if  not  utterly  swallow- 
ing up,  the  moral  man,  in  their  uncondi- 
tional irresistibleness.  Human  wisdom,  as 
they  possessed  it,  was  largely  the  result  of 
Suffering     suffering  and  blundering.    It  was  not  given 

and  blunder-  .  ,  .  ,  ,  . 

ing.  to  them  to  know  the  next  step  but  by  tak- 

ing it.  Discouragements  and  calamities 
made  them  timid  about  taking  it  at  all. 
Business  complicated  and  embarrassed, 
they  could  not  always  see  their  way  to  sol- 
vency.    Expenses  exceeding  income,  ruin 


The  Bottle  139 

impended.  Fraud  victimized  and  paralyzed 
them.  Conspiracy  gave  them  new  eyes. 
Immoralities  were  in  danger  of  being  ex- 
posed. Losses,  one  after  another,  seemed 
ruinous  altogether.  A  spendthrift  boy  a  spend. 
brought  unexpected  entailments.  A  fool- 
ish girl  wounded  the  family  pride  and  com- 
promised her  honor.  Domestic  infelicity 
was  possibly  creating  new  irritations.  A 
rasping  voice  and  intrusive  nose  might 
never  be  out  of  his  ear  and  affairs.  Super- 
added, a  dismal  atmosphere,  to  overwhelm 
with  gloom.  What  more  natural,  even  in 
Sub-Ccelum,  than  a  short  cut  to  temporary 
relief  through  the  bottle  ?  A  little  of  the 
artificial  sunshine  being  found  good,  a 
flood  of  it  was  better,  and  intoxication 
ensued.  Days  of  it,  probably,  before  dis- 
continuance was  thought  of.  The  poor 
victim  —  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  —  cares  not  to  go  home :  he  goes  of 
preference  to  the  Refuge,  where  he  is 
admitted  upon  application;  few  questions  Fewques- 

,        ,  .....  .  1*1  1  11       tions  asked. 

are  asked  ;  discipline  is  so  slight  as  hardly 
to  be  felt ;  he  is  thoughtfully  let  alone  ; 
permitted  at  will  to  wander  through  the 
beautiful  grounds,  without  molestation ; 
supplied  with  everything  necessary  to  his 
comfort,   in  the   way  of   food,  baths,  and 


140  Sub-Ccelum 

clean  beds  ;  but  not  a  drop  of  anything 

intoxicating   is  given   to  him    during   his 

The  healing  stay.     The  healing  solitude  and  absolute 

solitude.  .  e  ii- 

freedom,  in  a  few  days,  complete  his  resto- 
ration. No  record  is  made  of  the  matter, 
and  he  is  discharged  without  scrutiny  or 
pledge.  So  little  indeed  is  made  of  the 
circumstance  that  Gossip  herself  is  her- 
metically dumb  concerning  it. 

retreats        Retreats  for  convalescents  were  estab- 

for  Conva- 
lescents. Hshed,  here  and  there,  throughout  the  Com- 
monwealth. People  came  to  them  from 
every  part,  —  especially  those  who  had 
not  comfortable  homes.  These  Retreats 
were  situated  in  attractive  places,  where 
the  air  was  the  best,  and  where  inviting  ac- 
cessories could  be  easily  provided.  Trees 
were  planted  of  the  most  beautiful  varie- 
ties. Flowers  in  abundance  were  culti- 
Fountains  vated.  Fountains  played,  in  volume  and 
ioLme'and  spray,  displaying  rainbow  colors  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  Rills  ran  through  the 
grounds  in  a  natural  manner.  Ingenious 
little  contrivances  for  entertainment  were 
operated  by  them.  Mechanical  skill  ex- 
erted itself  to  invent  diminutive  engines 
for  all  sorts  of  purposes.  Musical  instru- 
ments were  made  to  play  by  the  force  of 


A  Convolution  of  Rainbows        1 4 ' 
the   element.     The   prettiest   little   ponds 
were  provided  for  the  fishes,  and  for  then^ft. 
birds  to  bathe  in.     Of  the  former,  those  of  w, 
every  brilliant  color  were  to  be  seen  ;  and 
of   the  latter,  those  of   every  quality  and 
tint  of  plumage.      In  moulting  time   the 
birds  were  especially  interesting.     When 
the  sun  shone,  the  atmosphere,  at  times, 
was   a   convolution   of   rainbows.     Intelli- 
gent monkeys  climbed  about  in  the  trees,  J£** 
and  suspended   themselves  by  their  tails. 
Grave  and  gay,  wise  and  foolish,  they  never 
ceased   to   be   objects   of   study.     Record 
was  made  of  their  cunning  and  imitative- 
ness,  and  they  were  respected  in  propor- 
tion as  they  were  known.     Lessons  were 
tauo-ht  by  the  application  of  their  powers. 
Not5  every  man  was  exalted  in  comparison 
with   them.     Their   ailments -much   the 
same  as  those  of  their  human  brethren  — 
were  treated  not  empirically,  but  scientifi- 
cally-too  much  affection  for  them  being 
felt  to  permit  mere  practice  upon  them  ; 
besides,  they  might  avenge  themselves,  - 
curious   instances   of     the   kind   being  of 
record  in  all  the  institutions.     Milk  of  the  jjujfc 
cow  and  the  goat  and  the  mare  was  Bup-^-j-* 
plied  as  needed.    The  cooking  was  exactly 
adapted  to  the  stomachs  and  nerves  and 


142  Sitb-Ccelum 

palates  of  the  feeble.  The  most  delicate 
dishes  were  served  to  nourish  and  stimu- 
late. Sleep  -  producing  qualities  were  spe- 
cially aimed  at,  —  the  belief  being  preva- 
lent that  frequent  and  complete  suspension 
of  the  functions  of  the  hemispheres  of  the 
cerebrum  was  necessary  to  sound  physical, 
Drugs  es-     intellectual,  and  moral  health.    Drugs  were 

chewed.  ° 

eschewed,  as  especially  for  the  hospital. 
Generous  wine,  in  sufficient  quantities,  was 
supplied,  but  nothing  stronger.  Tea,  also, 
and  coffee,  were  forbidden,  except  under 
peculiar  circumstances,  the  excessive  use 
of  either  being  held  accountable  for  many 
idiopathic  and  morbid  conditions.  Mani- 
fold amusements  were  provided,  —  such  as 
were  suited  to  the  tastes  and  strength  of 
Only keaithy  convalescents.     Only    visitors     were     ad- 

vixitors  ad- 

muted.  mitted  who  were  healthy  ;  and  those  must 
be  considerate  and  of  stimulating  effluence. 
The  brooding  mood  and  complaining  habit 
were  shut  out  as  pestilential  influences. 
Full  veins  and  abounding  vigor  were 
welcomed  as  inspirations.  Sickness  and 
death  were  not  subjects  of  conversation. 
Restoration  to  health  being  the  object  of 
these  wise  and  merciful  Retreats,  anything 
to  hinder  or  thwart  that  was  scrupulously 
forbidden.    Inmates  must  get  well,  and  not 


Free  Intercommunication  14} 

expend  any  part  of  their  powers,  moral  or 
emotional,  in  brooding  over  distresses  and 
perils  past  and  escaped.  Reluctance  to 
adopt  cheerful  moods,  and  to  cooperate 
with  wise  and  compassionate  treatment, 
were  grounds  of  prompt  dismissal  from  the 
institution. 


Hospices  for  visiting  strangers  were  in  hospices 

FOR   VlSlT- 


all  the  considerable  towns.     They  held  a  ^g  stran- 

1  GERS. 

place  half  way  between  the  hotel  or  hos- 
telry and  the  private  home.  They  were 
conducted  respectably  but  not  extrava- 
gantly. The  strictest  cleanliness  was  ob- 
served, and  plain  food  was  generously  fur- 
nished. There,  as  everywhere,  pains  were 
taken  in  the  preparation  of  articles  to  be 
eaten  ;  nothing  was  spoiled  in  the  cooking. 
Abundance  of  pure  water  was  supplied  for 
bathing  purposes.  Accessible  reception 
rooms  were  provided.  The  prices  charged 
were  only  a  trifle  above  the  cost  of  material 
and  service.  The  social  character  and 
habits  of  the  people  required  such  institu-  Suchinstitu- 
tions.  Enjoying  abundance  of  leisure,  a  quired. 
good  part  of  their  time  was  taken  up  in 
visiting,  and  every  facility  was  necessary 
to  free  intercommunication.  From  town 
to  town  they  went,  singly  and  in  parties, 


144  Sub-Ccelum 

and  these  Hospices  were  comfortable 
enough  homes  for  them  while  they  re- 
mained. Their  friends  were  relieved  of 
the  burden  of  entertaining  them,  and  never 

Absolute  wearied  of  seeing  them.  The  absolute 
freedom  all  enjoyed  was  favorable  to  hap- 
piness. Housekeepers  were  relieved  of 
anxiety  and  a  great  part  of  the  social  pres- 
sure. It  was  astonishing  the  amount  of 
pleasure  received  from  this  free  inter- 
course with  visiting  friends  and  strangers. 
Nobody  was  embarrassed  by  obligation. 
All  material  enjoyments  were  paid  for. 
Politenesses  were  voluntary,  and  without 
complications.  Society  had  almost  nothing 
of  the  debt -paying  element  in  it.  Pre- 
tenses of  overwhelming  gratitude  and  favor 
were  without  excuse,  and  were  not  exhib- 
ited. A  thousand  and  one  of  the  little 
insincerities  and  hypocrisies  were  avoided. 

Disguises  Disguises,  so  many,  were  not  thought  to  be 
necessary  to  appear  kind  and  hospitable. 
It  was  possible  to  look  into  each  other's 
faces  without  embarrassing  remembrance 
of  deceits  and  dissimulation.  Self-respect 
was  less  difficult  when  free  of  the  burden 
of  petty  sins  against  veracity.  Greater 
transparency  existed  in  the  social  relation. 
Less  of  conduct   was   a  mockery  of  con- 


not  neces- 


Life  Not  a  Game  145 

science  and  religion.  Young  people,  es- 
pecially, were  benefited  by  the  freedom 
and  liberal  facilities.  With  the  aid  of  the 
public  Hospices  they  saw  each  other  often, 
and  in  a  catholic  manner.  Life  was  not 
so  much  a  game  with  them.  The  sexes  The  sexes. 
were  upon  a  common  plane.  They  were 
more  apt  to  comprehend  each  other,  and 
be  better  fitted  for  the  holy  bonds.  Free- 
dom from  much  expense  and  ceremony 
gave  more  time  and  better  opportunity  for 
consideration  ;  and  precipitation  in  mar- 
riage was  not  the  rule  by  any  means.  In 
the  enlarged  facilities  for  intelligent  court- 
ing, society  found  important  protection. 
There  was  less  likelihood  of  crazy  infatua- 
tion. If  the  suitor  was  not  the  right  kind 
of  gentleman,  his  sweetheart  was  pretty 
sure  to  know  it.  His  conduct  was  more 
open  to  inspection,  and  would  expose  it- 
self, if  not  based  upon  trustworthiness.  In 
the  general  interchange,  outside  of  busi- 
ness relations,  the  Hospice  was  found 
indispensable.  Greater  opportunity  was 
given  to  the  offices  of  patriotism,  charity, 
and  benevolence.  Society  was  more  like  a  ukeagreat 
great  family.  By  its  liberal  and  healthful 
intercourse,  its  civic  and  social  virtues 
were  perpetually  nourished. 


146  Sub-Coelum 

inventors  Inventors  and  scholars,  in  a  pecuniary 
and  schol-  sensej  were  not  apt  to  be  more  prosperous 
there  than  elsewhere,  and  so  were  relieved 
of  many  ordinary  burdens.  Society,  hav- 
ing been  benefited  by  their  labors,  was 
willing  to  compensate  them  as  it  could. 
In  cases  where  they  had  grown  old  and 
poor  special  provision  was  made  for  them. 
Especially  they  were  preferred  for  any 
public  service  they  could  perform.  Con- 
sidering the  great  intellectual  activity,  the 
wonder  was  there  were  not  more  that  re- 
quired assistance.  The  proverbial  unthrift 
characterizing  the  purely  intellectual 
classes  they  had  their  share  of,  but  no 
more.  You  heard  the  same  incidents 
of  innocency  of  the  arts  of  trade  that 
literature  has  been  recording  ever  since 
living  and  language  began  to  improve. 
How,  while  they  were  evolving  great 
cheated 0/  thoughts,  they  were  cheated  of  their 
Mies.  pennies.     The  same  old  instances  of  for- 

getfulness  of  self  and  material  interests 
that  ignorance  is  forever  quoting  to  fortify 
its  self-conceit.  A  man  had  actually  died 
while  reading  a  proof-sheet  of  great  astro- 
nomical researches,  when  not  a  crumb  to 
eat  was  found  in  his  lodgings !  Defective, 
half-made  creature,  of  course,  not  to  pro- 


Incompatibles  14J 

vide  properly  for  his  stomach !  Jones,  who 
had  a  great  estate,  did  not  care  for  con- 
stellations and  comets.  Smith  had  accu- 
mulated, and  hardly  knew  how  to  read ! 
What  of  all  the  host  of  stars?  Cabbages  ivhato/aii 
did  not  grow  better  for  all  the  knowledge  surT?  "J 
of  them.  Incompatibles,  they  said,  were 
thrift  and  scholarship  and  scientific  inves- 
tigation. Intelligence  understood  the  mat- 
ter better,  and  provided  in  many  ways 
for  neglects  and  omissions.  When  manu- 
facturers made  great  fortunes  by  utilizing 
great  inventions,  whatever  the  terms  or 
circumstances  of  purchase,  they  did  not 
forget  the  inventors.  If  they  did  not  re- 
member them  fittingly  and  substantially, 
Government  prompted  them  by  significant 
means.  They  were  required  to  furnish 
money  or  employment  —  assistance  to  the 
inventor  being  as  far  as  possible  in  just 
proportion  to  the  pecuniary  value  of  the 
invention.  Publishers,  in  case  of  unex- 
pected large  sales  of  publications,  were  ex- 
pected and  required  to  further  share  their 
profits  with  authors,  if  necessitous.     The  Theprevaii. 

.,.  £    •        .•  .  tug  sense  o/ 

prevailing  sense  of  justice  amongst  appre- /?«//«. 
ciating  people  did  not  permit  a  neglect  of 
classes  preeminently  worthy.     Conscience 
was  wide  awake  in  such  cases. 


148 


Sub-Ccelum 


Old  People 
and  Chil- 


Religion 
more  than 
skin-deep. 


Very  few  old  people  or  children  were 
objects  of  public  charity.  The  humanity 
of  the  people  and  their  religion  were 
against  it,  except  in  cases  of  direst  extrem- 
ity. Affection  was  more  than  water,  and 
provided  for  its  own.  No  greater  disgrace 
could  fall  upon  a  man  than  by  the  neglect 
of  the  old  or  the  young  of  his  own  blood. 
Whatever  the  exigencies,  relief  generally 
came  from  the  natural  source.  Families 
were  not  so  large  but  that  room  might  be 
made  for  one  person  more,  in  extremity. 
The  aged  were  guarded  and  comforted  by 
their  children  or  children's  children  — 
by  their  relatives,  immediate  or  remote. 
Degrees  of  relationship  were  not  counted 
when  suffering  presented.  Blood  was  not 
denied  in  any  condition  of  indigence  or 
affliction.  It  flowed  and  interfused  un- 
consciously on  occasions  of  calamity.  Re- 
ligion—  more  than  mere  words,  and  more 
than  skin-deep  —  delighted  in  self-sacrifice. 
The  helpless  were  helped  as  a  religious 
privilege,  and  the  burden  was  not  shunned 
nor  calculated.  The  Founder  of  their 
religion  was  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  and 
the  religion  He  founded  was  for  the  poor 
especially.  Hungry  and  thirsty,  He  went 
about   doing   good,   though   rejected    and 


Nature  and  Art  149 

despised.  He  was  love  and  self-sacrifice 
incarnated.  Pitiful,  shameless  followers, 
who  deserted  their  own  blood,  in  poverty 
or  wretchedness. 

The  most  beautiful  spots  in  Sub-Ccelum  buwal- 
were  the  burial-places.  The  celestial  vis- 
itant, hovering  over,  must  have  been 
charmed  by  their  attractiveness.  Nature 
and  Art  did  their  utmost  to  beautify  them. 
Grounds  were  chosen  for  their  diversity 
and  irregularity.  What  Art  did  was  only 
to  assist  Nature  :  not  a  thing  was  done  to 
show  her  tricks  and  fantasies.  Hills  and 
valleys  in  abundance,  little  was  left  to  the 
landscape-gardener  but  to  adorn  them 
naturally.  The  native  forest  was  little  dis- 
turbed. Additional  trees  and  shrubs  were 
planted  to  give  greater  variety.  Exuber- 
ant vines  crept  and  climbed  about  in  fan- 
tastic ways.     Perennial  plants  and  flowers  Perennial 

,  .  .  i      t  rr  plants  and 

were  everywhere  in  view,  and  different  at  flowers. 
every  turn.  Exotics  were  cultivated  where 
not  too  much  labor  and  expense  were  in- 
volved, and  where  they  did  not  give  a  look 
of  too  great  artificialness.  Particular  pains 
were  taken  in  the  cultivation  of  plants  and 
shrubs  the  leaves  of  which  emitted  pleasant 
perfumes  ;  rosemary,  lavender,  sweet-brier, 


l5<> 


Sub-Ccelum 


The  line  of 
beauty  con- 
spicuous. 


and  the  like ;  which,  upon  the  slightest  touch 
or  disturbance,  filled  the  air  with  delicious 
odors.  Roses,  roses,  were  everywhere ; 
and  pinks,  too,  in  great  abundance.  Sin- 
uous roads  and  walks  ran  in  and  about 
bewilderingly.  The  line  of  beauty  was 
conspicuous.  The  birds  delighted  to  dwell 
in  these  enchanting  places  :  they  were  fed 
and  cherished  in  every  hospitable  and 
affectionate  way.  Squirrels  of  many  varie- 
ties were  perfectly  domesticated,  and  added 
greatly  to  the  general  animation.  They 
came  down  out  of  the  trees  to  be  noticed 
and  petted.  The  children  they  delighted 
to  run  over,  searchingly  and  caressingly. 
Names  were  given  to  the  prettiest,  and 
when  they  died  they  were  mounted  or  de- 
cently buried.  These  lovely  burial-places 
were  freely  visited  by  everybody  without 
Noembar.  distinction.  No  embarrassing  rules  or 
by-laws  were  placarded  on  the  gate-posts 
or  elsewhere.  No  scrutinizing  look  was 
given  by  officer  or  lodge-keeper  at  the  en- 
trance. It  was  only  expected  that  the 
sacred  place  be  not  made  a  haunt,  and  that 
good  behavior  would  characterize  the  con- 
duct of  the  visitor,  such  as  enlightenment 
and  good  feeling  would  suggest  as  befit- 
ting.    The  public  was  encouraged  to  go  to 


rassing 
rules. 


Death  Leveled  All  151 

the  beautiful  cemeteries  for  their  civiliz- 
ing, refining,  and  moral  influence.  If  an 
adult  or  half-grown  person  misbehaved  in 
one  of  the  resting-places  of  their  dead, 
he  was  uncivilized,  and  hardly  responsible. 
Breaches  of  good  conduct  were  so  rare  as  Breaches  0/ 
to  be  historical.  Their  religion  taught  im- grareC.°n 
mortality,  and  that  death  was  but  emanci- 
pation. Believing  that  they  began  to  be 
here  what  they  were  to  be  hence  —  that 
they  made  their  future  in  this  world  and 
took  it  with  them  to  the  next,  they  felt 
the  responsibility  of  living ;  and  anything 
that  tended  to  increase  that  feeling  was 
religiously  encouraged. 

There  was  little  distinction  exhibited  in  little dis- 
marking  the  graves.  The  stone-cutter  was  marking 
not  required  to  be  an  artist.  Costly  tombs 
and  monuments  were  not  in  fashion.  The 
graveyard  was  considered  a  poor  place  to 
draw  the  lines  upon  penury.  Wealth  was 
too  considerate  to  display  itself  in  places 
of  the  dead.  Fortunes  were  not  expended 
in  commemorative  columns  and  shafts. 
Ambitious  display  stopped  short  of  the 
tomb.  The  poorest  man  was  not  reminded 
thereof  his  indigence  —  grandeur  did  not 
mock  him  at  the  grave.     Death  leveled  all. 


Graves. 


152  Sub-Coelum 

Sensibility  might  show  itself,  but  not  cash. 
Adornments  were  such  as  affection  sus:- 
gested  to  thoughtfulness  and  refinement. 
Any  one  might  embellish  a  grave.  Plants, 
flowers,  a  modest  stone,  intelligent  care, 
were  not  costly.  Simplicity  and  tender- 
ness gave  greatest  distinction.  Birds  were 
sometimes  lured,  by  ingenious  and  affec- 
tionate means,  to  nest  on  the  graves. 
Broods  of  the  same  pair  successively  took 
Emblems  of  wing  —  emblems  of  immortality.     Flowers 

immortal-  1  i  i 

uy.  grew   better   by  the   tears   dropped   upon 

them,  and  the  fragrance  they  exhaled  was 
super-terrestrial.  Little  evidences  of  af- 
fection and  remembrance  were  everywhere 
to  be  seen.  Lettered  phrases  were  touch- 
ing to  read.  Memorial  verses  from  time 
to  time  were  found  in  the  grass.  In  every 
imaginable  way  the  deep  humanity  and 
profound  religious  sentiment  expressed 
themselves  in  these  sacred  places.  At  the 
Nothing  same  time,  nothing  gloomy  or  dreadful 
dreadful,  was  suggested.  Remembrances  of  the 
dead  were  quite  as  apt  to  be  joyful  as  dis- 
tressing. Pleasant  things  of  them  were 
rehearsed,  and  they  lived  again,  and 
were  reenjoyed.  Children  felt  themselves 
nearer  their  lost  parents  by  cheerfully  re- 
viewing their  kindnesses  and  self-sacrifice. 


The  Common  Lot  153 

Parents  forgot  themselves  in  agreeable 
reminiscences  of  their  children.  The  best 
was  remembered  as  most  apt  to  be  perpet- 
uated ;  the  regretted  was  buried  with  the 
dust.     The  common  distinctions  were  for-  Common di* 

.  ,  .    .  ..,.—,.       Unctions 

gotten  in  these  cities  of  the  dead.  Costly  forgotten. 
improvements  in  roads  and  chapels  were 
directed  by  the  general  management. 
Opulence  was  arm-in-arm  with  indigence 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  pervading  beauty, 
and  nothing  existed  to  suggest  any  dis- 
parity. In  the  park  or  in  the  public  gar- 
dens grandeur  might  display  itself,  but  not 
among  the  graves,  where  all  humanity  was 
common  dust.  Not  that  pride  aped  hu- 
mility :  it  was  humiliated  indeed  by  the 
thoughtful  consciousness  of  the  common 
lot. 

Neither  were  ostentatious  funerals  in  funerals. 
vogue  in  Sub-Ccelum.  They  did  not  com- 
port with  the  prevailing  ideas  of  propriety. 
It  had  been  a  great  many  years  since  any- 
thing of  the  kind  had  occurred  there.  Sim- 
plicity, rather  than  display,  characterized 
the  burial  of  the  dead.  Any  appearance 
of  vanity  or  vain  show,  in  connection  with 
death,  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  more  or 
less  barbaric.     Costly   equipage  and  con- 


i$4  Sub-Ccelum 

spicuously  fine  dress  had  long  since  been 
tabooed.  In  one  of  the  countries  from 
which  a  great  part  of  their  population  was 
Ostentation  descended,  ostentatious  and  expensive 
Votthe en$e  funerals  had  been  the  rule.  They  had 
record  of  one,  where  the  procession  was  a 
mile  long,  and  walked  sixteen  miles  to  the 
place  of  burial.  Every  variety  of  refresh- 
ment was  served,  and  over  five  hundred 
gallons  of  whiskey  were  consumed.  Sim- 
ple religious  services  at  the  house  of  the 
deceased  were  customary,  attended  by  the 
family  and  their  friends,  and  such  acquaint- 
ances as  were  invited.  The  remains  then 
passed  into  the  hands  of  the  director,  and 
were  quietly  conveyed  to  the  cemetery, 
accompanied  by  a  few  near  friends.  The 
face  of  the  poor  dead  human  body  was  not 
exposed  to  the  multitude  at  any  time.  Cu- 
riosity was  not  gratified  in  so  indelicate 
and  rude  a  way.  Mourning,  in  the  sense 
of  outside  manifestation,  was  rarely  exhib- 
Tkeir  cheer,  ited.     Their  cheerful  views    of   life,    here 

ful  views  of  . 

life.  and  hereafter,  led  them  to  accept  the  in- 

evitable resignedly  and  hopefully.  They 
could  not  account  for  this  existence  with- 
out a  belief  in  a  better  to  succeed  it.  Fi- 
delity and  purity  and  humanity  in  this, 
would  be  followed  by  felicity  in  that.     It 


Display  Avoided  155 

was  a  faith  they  all  had,  without  qualifica- 
tion. Expense  they  avoided  as  far  as  prac- 
ticable. They  regarded  the  occasion  of 
death  as  not  a  fit  one  for  the  display  of  this  TkisworicTs 

,,,  .  _         ,     .  ,      .  possessions. 

world  s  possessions.  Good  in  their  way, 
they  were  not  to  be  compared  with  the 
priceless  abundance  promised  to  the 
worthy.  Besides,  their  delicate  sense  did 
not  permit  them  to  exceed  the  average  in 
expensiveness  at  the  last  hour.  Penury 
was  not  to  be  reminded  of  its  limitations 
by  prodigality.  It  was  a  common  thing  for 
neighbors  to  bear  each  other  to  the  burial- 
place,  and  to  dig  each  others'  graves. 

In  every  considerable  burial-place  there  chapels  in 

,  ,.  ,  ,       BuRIAL- 

was  a  convenient  and  commodious  chapel,  places. 
adapted  to  religious  and  other  exercises 
connected  with  the  dead.  There  the  sealed 
caskets  containing  the  remains  of  persons 
well  known  were  frequently  placed,  and  for 
a  time  opportunity  was  given  to  the  public 
for  free  expression  upon  the  lives  and  ser- 
vices of  the  deceased.  The  general  intelli- 
gence and  readiness  of  speech,  with  the 
prevailing  habit  of  reflection,  made  these 
occasions  particularly  interesting  and  im- 
pressive. The  utmost  propriety  and  so- 
lemnity were  observed.     Sometimes  elabo- 


156  Sub-Ccelum 

rate  orations  were  delivered  ;  but  generally 
remarks  were  spontaneous  and  unpremedi- 
tated and  brief.  Incidents  of  the  life  that 
was  ended,  illustrating  its  character,  were 
related  in  a  natural,  conversational  way. 
Foibhs for-  Foibles   were   forgotten   in   the   generous 

gotten.  °  ° 

consideration  of  aims.  So  much  that  was 
good  was  found  to  be  said,  that  disparage- 
ment had  no  voice.  It  was  not  remem- 
bered when  an  uncharitable  thing  had  been 
uttered  on  any  one  of  these  occasions. 
The  people  were  too  wise  to  expect  perfec- 
tion in  any  human  life,  and  too  considerate, 
if  not  too  good,  to  cherish  memories  of 
common  errors  and  occasional  lapses  from 
strictest  rectitude.  Analyses  of  character, 
while  often  acute,  were  always  kindly  and 
forgiving.  It  was  surprising  how  the 
strong  light  of  observation  brought  out  the 
virtues.  A  man,  thought  by  the  casual 
beholder  to  be  hard  and  ungenerous,  ap- 
peared, in  the  judgment  and  knowledge  of 
his  friends,  a  just  and  self-sacrificing  citi- 
zen. So  far  from  being  selfish,  there  was 
nothing  he  would  not  have  done  for  others, 
Ungracious-  without  advertising  it.     Ungraciousness  of 

tiess  of  man-  . 

ner.  manner  was  his  misfortune.     A  poor  man, 

the  victim  of  his  appetites,  appeared  a  no- 
ble fellow  in  instances  where  he  had  risked 


Essential  Unselfishness  15J 

his  life  for  the  helpless.  His  depravity  had 
exhausted  itself  upon  himself.  Tributes  to 
his  humanity  and  essential  unselfishness 
were  in  hearts  without  tongues  to  express 
them.  An  eminently  proud  man  to  super- 
ficial apprehension,  in  the  flood  of  truth 
poured  upon  him,  seemed  only  the  self-  oniythesei/. 
respecting  gentleman.  His  pride  indeed  ^ehtumln. 
was  lost  in  his  profound  integrity.  An 
unfortunate  woman,  a  martyr  to  her 
beauty,  who  had  incurred  the  odium  of  her 
sex  by  certain  irregularities,  lay  one  day  in 
this  house  of  the  dead,  as  might  be  thought- 
lessly supposed,  for  condemnation.  Far 
from  it.  The  silence  of  the  tomb  was 
broken  by  feminine  sobs,  and  the  best  of 
her  sex  repeated,  He  that  is  without  sin 
among  you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at 
her.  The  whole  house  rose  responsively, 
and  passed  out,  one  by  one,  touched  by  the 
spirit  of  the  Master.  Men  and  women, 
conspicuous  by  their  acts  of  patriotism  and 
humanity,  received  their  just  tribute.  But 
nothing  fulsome  escaped  the  lips  of   any  Nothing /ui. 

Tj  ...  .        rr  some  escaped 

one.     It  was  considered  a  great  offense  to  the  tips  of 
say  of  the  dead  what  could  not  be  truth- 
fully said  of  any  living  human  being.    Acts 
were  recognized  and  appreciated  ;  but  mo- 
tives were  not  discussed. 


i58 


Siib-Coclum 


motives.  In  that  land  of  intelligence,  observation, 
and  introspection,  it  was  profoundly  real- 
ized that  an  attempt  by  law-makers  to 
define  motives,  and  by  judges  to  punish 
them,  would  be  puzzling  occupation.  To 
the  self-observant  Sub-Ccelumite  nothing 
interesting  was  more  interesting  and  surprising  than 
ing.  his  own,  as  they  appeared  to  himself,  and 

as  they  were  interpreted  by  others.  Often 
they  seemed  wholly  beyond  his  comprehen- 
sion or  control.  They  were  prompted  he 
did  not  always  know  how  nor  why,  and 
would  lead  him  he  could  not  tell  where. 
Their  meanness  often  humiliated  him,  and 
he  used  the  utmost  caution  and  careful- 
ness to  conceal  them.  His  complacency 
was  only  preserved  by  a  consciousness  of 
the  world's  ignorance  of  them.  Better 
motives  than  the  real  ones  were  often 
attributed  to  him,  which  both  satirized 
and  dignified  his  conduct.  His  greatest 
achievements  often  sprang  from  motives 
so  insignificant  that  he  would  have  been 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  them.  His  ap- 
parent and  exemplary  virtues  would  have 
lost  much  of  their  effect  if  the  secret  vices 
which  alarmed  them  into  exercise  were  ex- 
posed. Worse  motives  were  also  found 
for  his  conduct  than  ever  entered  his  heart, 


Both  satir- 
ized and 
dignified 
his  conduct. 


The  Protecting  Statute  i$g 

the  possession  of  which  would  have  made 
him  a  different  man.  If  conspicuous  good 
to  others  resulted  from  an  act  meant  pri- 
marily  to    benefit   himself,    his  sagacious  Hi*  saga- 


cious  benevo- 


benevolence  was  praised  and  his  character  knee 

i  n    i  tt  •  praised. 

accepted  a  model.  If  wrong  was  inci- 
dentally or  intentionally  done  his  neighbor 
through  his  neighbor's  simplicity  or  igno- 
rance, his  conscience  was  soothed  by  the 
protecting  statute.  He  had  been  annoyed 
by  an  ostentatious  recognition  and  acknow- 
ledgment of  acts,  with  a  parade  of  assumed 
systematic  intentions,  when  the  real  ones 
so  spontaneously  sprang  from  his  humanity 
that  design  or  calculation  was  impossible. 
Their  intrinsic  goodness  was  so  disparaged 
and  obscured  by  misinterpretation  and 
flaunting  that  their  promising  fruit  was 
stinted  in  the  growth.  The  sweeter  virtues, 
crushed  into  life,  are  embarrassed  by  being 
displayed.  The  silent  tear  which  attends 
their  birth  drops  away  in  shame  at  being 
discovered. 

There  were  professional  funeral  orators,  funeral 
and  writers  of  obituary  notices,  whose  ser-  and  obitu- 
vices  were  frequently  solicited.     Facts  and  -hces. 
incidents  supplied  them  were  responsibly 
employed,    simply    or    elaborately   as    re- 


i6o 


Sub-Coelum 


A  cts  ar- 
rayed and 
events  por- 
trayed. 


A  good 
woman. 


quested.  Where  the  character  justified  it, 
acute  and  thorough  analysis  was  made. 
When  connected  in  any  conspicuous  way 
with  the  public,  acts  were  arrayed  and 
events  portrayed  to  impress  its  value  and 
usefulness.  A  good  man  appeared  better 
by  the  recital  of  enterprises  of  which  he 
was  an  important  part.  Where  his  suc- 
cesses fell  short  of  his  aims,  cooperation 
was  found  wanting.  His  wise  and  benevo- 
lent projects  had  to  wait  for  favorable  con- 
ditions and  sympathizing  coadjutors.  The 
truth  of  men  and  women  was  told  without 
exaggeration  or  adulation.  Whatever  of 
religion  was  in  the  life  was  shown  in  the 
portrayal  of  its  enthusiastic  humanity  and 
self-sacrifice.  What  better  could  be  said 
of  it  than  that  it  employed  and  exhausted 
itself  in  the  service  of  others  ?  A  good 
woman,  who  had  bred  a  large  family,  and 
led  a  long  life  of  devotion  and  self-sacri- 
fice, worn  out  by  care,  and  weary  of  her 
burdens,  came  at  length  to  what  was  sup- 
posed to  be  her  deathbed.  A  clergyman 
thought  it  to  be  his  duty  to  call  upon  her. 
He  asked  her  if  she  had  made  her  peace 
with  her  Maker ;  to  which  she  replied  that 
she  was  not  aware  that  there  had  been  any 
trouble.      Cases   like   this   were   used    to 


Tongue  Charity  161 

illustrate  the  possible  in  right  directions. 
Words  were  slightly  estimated  in  compari-  words  in 

.   .  /-<        ,•  •  comparison 

son  with  acts.  Canting  pretension  was  with  acts. 
silently  buried  ;  for  what  was  to  be  said  of 
emptiness  and  tongue  charity  merely  ? 
Lives  were  better  than  professions.  In 
funeral  orations  and  obituary  notices  were 
kindly  presented  realities  ;  ideals  were  in- 
ferred or  suggested.  Embodiments  of 
practical  virtue  and  religion  stood  forth. 
Standards  of  conduct  were  animated  by 
personal  illustration,  more  impressive  than 
didactic  instruction. 

As  before  said,  every  one  had  his  voca-  vocation 

.  .  i'ii  1  AND  Avoca- 

tion  and  avocation,  into  which  he  carried  tion. 
his  enthusiasms.  By  the  former  he  made 
his  money ;  in  the  latter  he  gratified  his 
tastes.  Special  occupations  were  numer- 
ous, and  hobbies  also.  Favorite  objects  of 
pursuit  gave  full  employment  to  particular 
faculties.  It  was  expected,  in  the  prevail- 
ing mental  activity,  and  dishonor  of  idle- 
ness, that  every  intelligent  person  would 
have  some  appropriate  diversion,  befitting 
his  abilities  and  imagination.  Men  and 
women  were  made  more  interesting  by 
these  worthy  pastimes,  and  were  rarely 
humdrum  or  commonplace.     Their  minds, 


1 62  Sub-Ccelum 

so  to  speak,  had  their  little  holy  of  holies, 
with  windows  toward  heaven,  into  which 
they  entered  in  best  moods,  and  recreated 
Dull  they  their  powers.  Dull  they  could  not  be, 
"  stirred  so  often  into  definite,  ennobling 
action.  It  might  be  only  an  insect  the  en- 
thusiast gave  his  hours  of  leisure  to ;  but 
it  was  an  object  of  creation,  and  stimulated 
him.  Observation  was  discovery,  and  led 
him  into  ever-widening  fields,  and  away 
from  the  beaten  track.  Absorbed  by  his 
hobby,  he  was  respectful  and  hospitable 
to  that  of  his  neighbor.  He  did  not  apply 
the  epithet  hobbyhorsical  to  any  special 
enthusiasm.  He  was  not  found  among  the 
dogmatists  or  satirists.  He  realized  the 
limits  to  knowledge,  and  honored  every 
effort  to  transcend  them.  He  had  been 
mistaken,  and  would  be  again  and  again. 
He  had  laughed,  but  oftenest  through  ig- 
a wed  by  norance.  If  wise  enough  to  understand, 
ing.  he  had  been  awed.     Realizing  that   men 

are  most  apt  to  believe  what  they  least 
comprehend,  he  did  not  require  the  last 
fact  to  give  credence.  He  could  disbelieve 
upon  ultimate  testimony.  Inconsistency 
or  apostasy  did  not  affright  him.  Modest 
in  his  beliefs  and  disbeliefs,  bigotry  was 
impossible  to  him. 


Jupiter  and  Juno's  Wedding       16} 
These  patient  and  enthusiastic  students  students 

,  .    .         IN  Particu- 

m  particular  lines  had  many  opportunities  lar  Lines. 
to  contribute  of  their  knowledge  to  the 
public.  They  were  encouraged  to  give  fre- 
quent lectures  and  demonstrations,  which 
were  always  numerously  attended,  and  at- 
tentively and  sympathizingly  received.  In- 
deed, these  learned  talks  and  exhibitions  Learned 

,  talks  andex- 

constituted  their  highest  amusements,  kauimu. 
They  were  illustrated  in  every  attractive 
and  ingenious  way,  and  were  comprehen- 
sible even  to  the  children.  The  public  were 
proud  of  these  special  investigators,  who 
worked  for  love,  and  for  the  general  good, 
and  were  more  than  glad  to  sit  reverently 
at  their  feet  and  learn  of  them.  The  com- 
monest subjects  and  objects  in  the  hands  of 
these  enlightened  enthusiasts  became  more 
interesting  than  any  fiction.  Crawling  and 
flying  things,  despised  by  the  common,  ap- 
peared indeed  wonderful  in  the  flash  of  light 
ingeniously  poured  upon  them.  They  say 
that  when  Jupiter  and  Juno's  wedding  was 
solemnized  of  old,  the  gods  were  all  in-  The  gods  in- 
vited  to  the  feast,  and  many  noble  men  be- 
sides. Amongst  the  rest  came  Chrysalus, 
an  Oriental  prince,  bravely  attended,  rich 
in  golden  attires,  in  gay  robes,  with  a  ma- 
jestical  presence,  but  otherwise  a  very  in- 


/  64  Sub-Coeliim 

ferior  creature.  The  gods,  seeing  him  in 
such  pomp  and  state,  rose  up  to  give  him 
place ;  but  Jupiter  perceiving  what  he  was, 
Turned  into  a  light,  fantastic,  idle  fellow,  turned  him 
and  his  proud  followers  into  butterflies  ; 
and  so  they  continue  still,  mythology  de- 
clares, roving  about  in  pied  coats,  and  are 
called  chrysalides  by  the  wiser  sort  of  men. 
These  winged  worms,  in  the  hands  of  a 
master  who  had  intelligently  and  zealously 
studied  them,  were  made  more  interesting 
than  any  Eastern  prince  in  all  his  splendor 
of  attire  and  pomp  of  retinue.  Of  the 
more  than  seven  hundred  species  in  one 
small  province,  he  presented  you  the  most 
beautiful  varieties,  in  all  their  gorgeous- 
ness  and  bewilderment  of  color.  En- 
larged by  the  camera,  they  appeared  of 
enormous  proportions  —  more  gigantic 
wings  of  than  the  fabled  roc.  The  wings  of  certain 
CcZsat"  '  species,  covered  on  both  sides  with  imbri- 
cated scales  or  feathers,  to  the  unassisted 
eye  presenting  the  appearance  of  dust  or 
powder,  under  the  microscope  they  dis- 
played an  arrangement  as  uniform  and 
characteristic  of  species  as  that  of  the 
scales  of  fishes  and  the  feathers  of  birds. 
He  told  you  that  in  a  piece  of  mosaic  work 
there    might    be   nine    hundred   separate 


Metamorphoses  165 

pieces  in  an  inch  square,  while  the  same 
extent  of  surface  in  a  butterfly's  wing  con- 
tained from  one  hundred  thousand  to  nine 
hundred  thousand  of  these  wing-scales  or 
feathers.  You  saw  the  despised  caterpil-  The  despised 
lar  in  all  his  metamorphoses,  from  the ca 
process  of  hatching  —  eagerly  eating,  eat- 
ing, growing  prodigiously,  changing  its 
skin  several  times,  evacuating  his  intes- 
tines, suspending  himself  by  a  little  rope 
of  silk  to  the  under  surface  of  a  leaf,  ap- 
pearing, after  other  mysterious  changes, 
the  perfect  butterfly,  sipping  honey  from 
the  flowers,  like  his  cousin  the  humming- 
bird ;  reproducing  himself  and  dying,  like 
every  other  thing  of  mortality.  At  the 
theatre  and  the  circus  the  people  were  not 
amused  and  profited  as  they  were  at  these 
astonishing  platform  exhibitions.  They 
laughed,  and  were  wonderstruck. 

Even  the  pestilent,  friendless  rat  was  the  substance 
theme  of  discourse  at  one  of  these  popular  ture. 
assemblages.  The  humane  investigator 
had  made  a  particular  study  of  the  animal, 
and  surprised  his  audience  with  the  num- 
ber and  character  of  his  facts  and  obser- 
vations —  original  and  from  authentic 
sources.     The  nature  and  qualities  of  the 


1 66 


Siib-Coelum 


creature  were  presented  in  a  manner  to 
excite  astonishment  and  sympathy.  At 
the  risk  of  being  considered  tedious,  some 
of  his  facts  and  anecdotes  are  repeated. 
incident  re.  He  related  an  incident  communicated  by  a 

lated  by  a  . 

clergyman,  clergyman,  to  prove  that  the  detested  ro- 
dent shows  a  consideration  and  care  for  its 
elders  on  the  march  which  was  worthy  of 
human  philanthropy.  Walking  out  in  some 
meadows  one  evening,  he  observed  a  great 
number  of  rats  migrating  from  one  place 
to  another.  He  stood  perfectly  still,  and 
the  whole  assemblage  passed  close  to  him. 
His  astonishment,  however,  was  great 
when  he  saw  amongst  the  number  an  old 
blind  rat,  which  held  a  piece  of  stick  at  one 
end  in  its  mouth,  while  another  had  hold  of 
the  other  end  of  it  and  thus  conducted  its 
blind  companion.  A  kindred  circumstance 
was  witnessed  by  a  surgeon's  mate.  Ly- 
ing awake  one  evening  in  his  berth,  he  saw 
a  rat  enter,  look  cautiously  round,  and  re- 
tire. He  soon  returned,  leading  a  second 
rat,  who  seemed  to  be  blind,  by  the  ear. 
A  third  rat  joined  them  shortly  afterwards, 
and  assisted  the  original  conductor  in  pick- 
ing up  some  fragments  of  biscuit  and 
placing  them  before  their  infirm  parent,  as 
the  blind  old  patriarch  was  supposed  to  be. 


A  kindred 
circum- 
stance. 


A  Necessity  of  his  Existence        i6y 

Incredible  as  the  story  might  appear  of 
their  removing  hens'  eggs  by  one  fellow 
lying  on  his  back  and  grasping  tightly  his 
ovoid  burden  with  his  fore  paws,  whilst  his 
comrades  drag  him  away  by  the  tail,  he  had 
no  reason  to  disbelieve  it,  knowing  as  he 
did  that  they  would  carry  eggs  from  the  ingenious 
bottom  to  the  top  of  a  house,  lifting  them 
from  stair  to  stair,  the  first  rat  pushing 
them  up  on  its  hind  and  the  second  lifting 
them  with  its  fore  legs.  They  would  ex- 
tract the  contents  from  a  flask  of  oil,  dip- 
ping in  their  long  tails,  and  repeating  the 
manoeuvre  until  they  had  consumed  every 
drop.  He  had  found  lumps  of  sugar  in 
deep  drawers,  at  a  distance  of  thirty  feet 
from  the  place  where  the  petty  larceny  was 
committed ;  and  a  friend  of  his  saw  a  rat 
mount  a  table  on  which  a  drum  of  figs  was 
placed  and  straightway  tip  it  over,  scatter- 
ing its  contents  on  the  floor  beneath,  where 
a  score  of  his  expectant  brethren  sat  watch- 
ing for  the  windfall.    The  propensity  of  the  a  propensity 

.  .  .  .  .    explained. 

rat  to  gnaw,  he  said,  should  not  be  attri- 
buted altogether  to  a  reckless  determina- 
tion to  overcome  impediments.  The  never- 
ceasing  action  of  his  teeth  was  not  a 
pastime,  but  a  necessity  of  his  existence. 
It  was  explained  :  the  rat  had  formidable 


1 68  Siib-Coclum 

weapons  in  the  shape  of  four  small,  long, 

and  very  sharp  teeth,  two  of  which  were  in 

the  upper  and  two  in  the  lower  jaw.   These 

in  the  shape  were  formed  in  the  shape  of  a  wedge,  and 

of  a  wedge.     .       .      .  . 

had  always  a  fine,  sharp,  cutting  edge.  On 
examining  them  carefully,  it  was  found 
that  the  inner  part  was  of  soft,  ivory-like 
composition,  which  might  be  easily  worn 
away,  whereas  the  outside  was  composed 
of  a  glass-like  enamel,  which  was  exces- 
sively hard.  The  upper  teeth  worked  ex- 
actly into  the  under,  so  that  the  centres  of 
the  opposed  teeth  met  exactly  in  the  act 
of  gnawing  ;  the  soft  part  was  thus  being 
perpetually  worn  away,  while  the  hard  part 
kept  a  sharp,  chisel-like  edge  ;  at  the  same 
time  the  teeth  grew  from  the  bottom,  so 
that  as  they  wore  away  a  fresh  supply  was 
ready.  In  consequence  of  this  peculiar 
arrangement,  if  one  of  the  teeth  be  re- 
Effecto/re-  moved,  either  by  accident  or  on  purpose, 
the  opposed  tooth  would  continue  to  grow, 
and,  as  there  would  be  nothing  to  grind 
it  away,  it  would  project  from  the  mouth 
and  turn  upon  itself ;  or,  if  it  were  an  un- 
der tooth,  it  would  even  run  into  the  skull 
above.  There  was  a  preparation  in  one 
of  the  museums  which  perfectly  illustrated 
the  fact.     It  was  an  incisor  tooth  of  a  rat, 


Simulation  169 

which,  from  the  cause  mentioned,  had 
increased  its  growth  to  such  a  degree, 
that  it  had  formed  a  complete  circle  and 
a  segment  of  another ;  the  diameter  was 
about  large  enough  to  admit  a  good-sized 
thumb.  He  once  saw  a  newly  killed  rat 
to  whom  this  misfortune  had  occurred. 
The  tooth,  which  was  an  upper  one,  had  Curious 

growth 

in  this  case  also  formed  a  complete  circle, 
and  the  point,  in  winding  round,  had  passed 
through  the  lip  of  the  animal.  Thus  the 
ceaseless  working  of  the  rat's  incisors 
against  some  hard  substance  was  necessary 
to  keep  them  down,  and  if  he  did  not  gnaw 
for  his  subsistence  he  would  be  compelled 
to  gnaw  to  prevent  his  jaw  being  gradu- 
ally locked  by  their  rapid  development. 
He  quoted  from  a  traveler,  whose  dogs  set 
upon  a  rat,  and  making  them  relinquish 
it,  he  took  it  up  by  the  tail,  the  dogs  leap- 
ing after  it  the  whole  time.  He  carried  it 
into  his  dining-room  to  examine  it  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp,  during  the  whole  of 
which  period  it  remained  as  if  it  were  dead,  Feigwd 
—  limbs  hanging,  and  not  a  muscle  moving. 
After  five  minutes  he  threw  it  among  the 
dogs,  who  were  still  in  a  great  state  of 
excitement,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  all 
present,  it  suddenly  jumped  upon  its  legs, 


I  jo  Sub-Caium 

and  ran  away  so  fast  that  it  baffled  all  its 
pursuers.  The  sagacity  of  the  animal  in 
craftiness  eluding  danger  was  not  less  than  his  crafti- 
withdauger.  ness  in  dealing  with  it  when  it  came.  A 
gentleman  who  fed  his  own  pointers  ob- 
served, through  a  hole  in  the  door,  a  num- 
ber of  rats  eating  from  the  trough  with  his 
dogs,  who  did  not  attempt  to  molest  them. 
Resolving  to  shoot  the  intruders,  he  next 
day  put  the  food,  but  kept  out  the  dogs. 
Not  a  rat  came  to  taste.  He  saw  them 
peering  from  their  holes,  but  they  were  too 
well  versed  in  human  nature  to  venture 
forth  without  the  protection  of  their  canine 
guard.  After  half  an  hour  the  pointers 
were  let  in,  when  the  rats  forthwith  joined 
their  hosts,  and  dined  with  them  as  usual. 
Even  with  his  great  natural  enemy  and  su- 
perior, the  ferret,  he  would  sometimes  get 
the  advantage  by  his  steady  bravery  and 
Enemies  in  the  superiority  of  his  tactics.  A  rat  and  a 
%Ztk£.  ferret  were  turned  loose  in  a  room  without 
furniture,  in  which  there  was  but  one  win- 
dow. Immediately  upon  being  liberated 
the  rat  ran  round  the  room  as  if  searching 
for  an  exit.  Not  finding  any  means  of 
escape,  he  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and 
with  the  most  prompt  decision  took  up  his 
station  directly  under  the  light,  thus  gain- 


Advantage  of  the  Sim  iji 

ing  over  his  adversary  —  to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  the  duelists  —  the  advantage  of 
the  sun.  This  advantage  he  managed  to 
keep  all  through  the  conflict  ;  when  the 
gentleman,  to  prove  whether  the  choice  of 
this  position  depended  upon  accident,  dis-  Not tiure- 

....  iii»  •  "'M  o/acci- 

lodged  the  rat  and  took  his  own  station  dent. 
under  the  window ;  but  the  moment 
the  ferret  attempted  to  make  his  ap- 
proach, the  rat,  evidently  aware  of  the 
advantage  he  had  lost,  endeavored  to  creep 
between  the  gentleman's  legs,  thus  losing 
his  natural  fear  of  man  under  the  danger 
which  awaited  him  from  his  more  deadly 
foe.  A  number  of  rats  had  got  into  a 
basket  of  grapes,  and  devoured  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  contents.  The  man  who 
discovered  them  replaced  the  basket,  in 
hopes  that  they  would  again  visit  it  and 
be  caught ;  but  the  wary  animals  never  wariness. 
again  came  to  the  basket  in  which  they 
had  been  detected.  They  were  so  numer- 
ous and  so  bold  that  they  used  to  come  and 
pick  up  the  crumbs  from  between  the 
men's  feet  as  they  sat  at  meals.  Wishing 
for  a  shot  at  some  of  them,  one  of  the  men 
dropped  a  few  grains  of  corn  on  the 
ground,  and  took  up  his  position,  gun  in 
hand.     Soon  one  rat   bounded  across  the 


ij2  Sitb-Coelwn 

space  as  if  in  great  alarm ;  but  no  rat 
touched  a  grain  of  the  corn,  which  was  ex- 
posed for  several  days  and  nights,  being  at 
last  crushed  and  lost  by  the  passing  of  feet 
and  vehicles.     Rats  were  numerous  in  the 

Exhibitions  pig-sties,  and  ate  with  the  pigs,  one  of 
which  was  turned  out  of  her  sty,  and  a 
trap-door  was  contrived  to  close  the  trough 
by  pulling  a  cord.  The  trough  was  baited 
with  good  maize,  of  which  they  were  very 
fond ;  but  neither  by  day  nor  by  night 
would  a  rat  venture  there  as  long  as  the 
pig  was  excluded.  .  Returning  the  pig  to 
the  sty,  the  rats  also  returned.  A  similar 
case  was  related  in  which  the  rats  were  so 
many  and  so  bold  that  they  forced  them- 
selves into  the  troughs,  would  not  be 
driven  away,  and  consumed  no  small 
amount  of  the  food  which  ought  to  have 
gone  to  the  pigs.  The  owner  of  the  pigs 
then  laid  a  gun  so  as  to  rake  the  trough, 
turned  out  the  pigs,  and  had  the  trough 

Not  one       filled  as  usual.     Not  a  rat  would  make  its 

made  its  ap-  .  ,  . 

pearance.  appearance  ;  and  at  last  the  pigs  were  put 
back,  when  the  rats  came  trooping  in  as 
numerous  and  as  bold  as  ever.  In  a  gen- 
tleman's garden  was  a  conservatory  along 
the  roof  of  which  was  trained  a  vine  on 
which  the  fruit  would  not  ripen  ;  so  he  had 


The  Gardener's  Discovery  ij} 

the  vine  inclosed  in  a  glass  frame,  in  the 
hope  that,  the  heat  being  confined,  the 
grapes  would  ripen  better  than  when  ex- 
posed to  the  night  air.  The  plan  was  suc- 
cessful, and  he  had  a  plentiful  crop  of 
large-sized  bunches.      These,  however,  be-  The  big 

,.  •    i  i  bunches  dis- 

gan  to  disappear  very  quickly  as  soon  as  appeared. 
ripe,  but  not  bunch  by  bunch,  as  would  be 
done  by  thieves,  but  only  the  ripest  grapes 
of  each  bunch  were  taken.  The  gardener, 
when  lying  on  his  back  for  rest  after  cut- 
ting a  lot  of  branches,  heard  a  scuffling 
sort  of  sound,  and  looking  round  saw  five 
or  six  large  rats  come  into  the  frame  ;  they 
then  jumped  up  at  the  lowest  hanging 
branches  and  managed  to  knock  down  two 
or  three  grapes,  which  they  proceeded  to 
eat  like  a  squirrel,  sitting  up  on  their  hind 
legs  and  holding  the  fruit  in  their  front 
paws.     Soon  after  a  large  female,  followed  a  iarge/e- 

,         -  'iiii   tuale  with 

by  four  young  ones,  came  in,  and  the  old  /our young 
one  ran  up  the  vine  and  bit  off  one  of  the 
ripest  bunches,  which  fell  down  to  the  ex- 
pecting young  ones  below,  who  fastened 
on  it  and  began  to  eat.  The  gardener 
could  not  keep  his  laugh,  but  shouted  out, 
which  sent  them  all  away,  as  if  a  dog  were 
after  them.  A  lady  living  in  the  country 
had  her  attention  drawn  one  day  to  some 


H4 


Sitb-Coclum 


rats  in  an  outer  room,  surrounding  a  pail 
which  had  been  prepared  for  the  pigs. 
Observing  them  carefully,  she  soon  discov- 
ered that  a  young  rat  had  fallen  into  the 
pail,  and  that  his  friends,  to  the  number  of 
five  or  six,  were  in  consultation  as  to  the 

Means o/  best  means  of  rescuing  him.  The  lady 
called  others  of  her  family  to  witness  their 
manoeuvres,  while  they  continued  busily 
at  work,  regardless  of  the  presence  of 
the  spectators.  By  twining  their  feet 
together  —  the  hind  feet  of  the  foremost 
rat  being  entwined  with  the  fore  feet 
of  the  next,  and  so  on  —  they  formed  a 
chain  extending  over  the  side  of  the  pail. 
The  foremost  rat,  supposed  to  be  the 
mother,  then  reached  down,  grasped  the 
young  one  in  her  paws,  and  both  were 
drawn  out  on  the  floor.  Unfortunately, 
their  deliberations  had  occupied  so  much 
time  that  the  young  rat  was  drowned  be- 
fore he  was  extricated,  and  apparently  the 
intelligence  of  his  friends  did  not  extend 

Resusdta.     so  far  as  to  attempt  resuscitation.     Three 

Hon  not  at-  ... 

tempted.  persons  were  looking  over  a  garden  at  sun- 
set, when  a  rat  appeared  near  a  stone  wall ; 
then  another  and  another,  until  five  had 
assembled,  the  fifth  and  last  dragging  a 
dead  rat.     A  council  then  seemed  to  be 


A  Novel  Burial  175 

held.  Then  four  of  them  took  the  foot  of 
their  dead  companion  and  drew  the  body- 
to  a  place  where  the  earth  was  soft.  The  The  fifth 
fifth  dug  a  grave  with  his  head  and  feet, 
the  depth  being  sufficient  to  allow  the 
earth  to  cover  the  body.  The  four  after- 
ward assisted  in  covering  it  up,  leaving  the 
tail  of  the  deceased  out  of  the  ground. 
With  a  touch  of  humor,  the  humane  natu- 
ralist so  far  departed  from  his  loved  theme 
as  to  wind  up  his  interesting  hour-and-a- 
half's  talk  by  referring  to  the  suggestive 
instance  of  a  mouse  and  a  scorpion  being 
put  under  a  glass  together.  The  mouse 
was  immediately  stung  by  the  scorpion,  and 
to  all  appearances  mortally.  It  remained 
for  some  time  in  a  kind  of  lethargy ;  but 
on  a  sudden  it  collected  its  strength,  and, 
as  in  a  fit  of  frenzy,  fell  upon  the  scorpion, 
killed  it,  and  eat  its  body  entirely  up,  leav- 
ing nothing  but  the  claws.  The  moment 
it  had  swallowed  the  scorpion  the  swelling 
disappeared  ;  no  signs  of  pain  remained, 
and  the  poor  animal  was  set  at  liberty,  in 
great  health  and  spirits.  Similia  similibus 
curantur. 

The  microscope  and  the  camera  were  of  microscope 
great  service  to  specialists  of  every  descrip-  era. 


ij6  Sub-Ccelum 

tion.  The  revelations  of  the  former  ex- 
ceeded all  expectation  or  calculation.  It 
had  been  improved  until  an  expert  was  no 
longer  necessary  to  adjust  it.  Intelligent 
children      children,  even,  made  free  use  of  it.     With 

made  dis-  .      .         . 

coveries.  their  sharp  eyes  they  were  constantly  mak- 
ing discoveries  and  noting  them.  In  many 
houses  a  room  was  set  apart  to  microscopy. 
Specimens  without  end  accumulated  in 
them.  Habits  of  observation  were  formed, 
and  elevated  thinking  was  encouraged.  It 
was  not  possible  for  a  man  to  be  groveling 
and  mean  whose  mind  had  been  trained  to 
atomic  observation  of  nature.  No  matter 
what  his  occupation  might  be,  his  diver- 
sion made  him  totally  forget  it.  He  was 
with  God  in  his  wonders  —  lifted  out  of 
himself  for  the  time  being  to  a  sphere 
supremely  above  craft  and  handicraft.  At 
his  bench  in  the  shop  the  artisan's  fore- 
head might  be  gloomily  contracted,  and 
his  face  appear  expressionless  ;  but  speak 
to  him  of  his  loved  diversion,  and  his  brow 

countenance  lifted,  and  his  countenance  was  illuminated. 

noted.  Cases  were  frequently  made  known  where 
character  had  been  completely  changed  by 
the  adoption  of  an  elevating  hobby.  Du- 
ality was  a  recognized  principle.  Tastes 
for  the  sensual  and  devilish  were  put  aside, 


The  Indian  Summer  177 

and  finally  wholly  displaced,  by  pure  and 
exalting  enthusiasms.  The  camera  was 
hardly  less  wonderful  than  the  microscope 
in  its  discoveries  and  revelations.     Difficul-  Difficulties 

,   .    .     r  111  •        surmounted. 

ties  which  tor  so  many  years  had  been  in- 
surmountable by  the  operator  and  experi- 
menter had  been  overcome  by  superior 
methods.  Photographs  in  colors  were 
common  achievements.  One  color  was 
not  more  difficult  to  the  camera  than  an- 
other. Effects,  indeed,  were  heightened, 
as  in  the  Claude  Lorraine  mirror.  Slight 
color  in  the  cheek  became  roseate  in  the 
picture.  Draperies  were  improved  in  like 
proportion.  Fabrics  appeared  finer  and 
richer.  Colors  were  reproduced  with  su- 
per-accuracy. Flowers  did  not  lose  much 
by  transfer  to  sensitized  paper.  The  au- 
tumnal forest,  in  all  its  colors,  contracted 
to  a  little  space,  bloomed  and  glowed  like  Gimvediike 
a  great  verbena-bed,  with  the  Indian  Sum-  betuUcd. 
mer  haze  enveloping  it  and  the  still  land- 
scape. Ah  !  that  wonderful  Sub-Coelum 
season,  as  one  of  their  great  poets  de- 
scribed it !  The  stillness  of  the  landscape 
in  that  beautiful  time  was  as  if  the  planet 
were  sleeping,  like  a  top,  before  it  began  to 
rock  with  the  storms  of  autumn.  All  na- 
tures seemed  to  find  themselves  more  truly 


/  j8  Sub-Ccelum 

in  its  light ;  love  grew  more  tender,  reli- 
gion more  spiritual,  memory  saw  farther 
back  into  the  past,  grief  revisited  its  mossy 
marbles,  the  poet  harvested  the  ripe 
thoughts  which  he  would  tie  in  sheaves  of 
verses  by  his  winter  fireside. 

electri-         Electricity  was  in   general   use   for   all 

CITY.  *  °. 

sorts  of  purposes,  especially  for  transporta- 
tion and  communication.  It  was  applied 
to  every  kind  of  vehicle,  and  to  every  kind 
of  machinery.  Bicycles,  tricycles,  and  four 
and  six-wheeled  carriages,  of  every  de- 
scription, were  moved  by  it.  They  ran 
about  noiselessly,  as  if  propelled  by  the 
wind.  Even  the  air  was  traversed  by 
ingeniously  contrived  vehicles,  or  balloons. 
Like  the  condor,  they  did  not  ascend 
easily  or  rapidly,  but  when  once  up,  they 
sailed  away  like  floating  clouds  or  flying 
birds,  in  horizontal  curves  and  straight 
Above  the     lines.     Above  the  spires  and  steeples  there 

spires  and  .  ...  .  .  ■ 

steeples.  was  impressive  silence ;  only  the  song  of 
the  lark,  and  an  occasional  voice  or  noise 
from  below,  disturbed  the  profound  still- 
ness. People  in  one  talked  to  those  in 
another.  Signals  were  given  by  notes  of 
the  flute.  Telegraphic  and  telephonic 
communication  was  universal.     People  sat 


A  Great  Step  ijg 

in  their  parlors  and  listened  to  oratorios. 
Lines  stretched  from  farmhouse  to  farm- 
house, and  households  communicated  with 
ease.     Country  life  was  relieved  of  its  lone-  country  u/e 

J  ,  11)      relieved. 

liness.  Neighbors  enjoyed  each  other  s 
music  and  conversation.  In  sickness  they 
were  advised  of  every  turn.  They  were 
guarded  against  danger.  They  extended 
invitations,  and  gave  notice  of  visits. 
Offers  of  help  were  extended.  Horses  and 
implements  and  vehicles  not  in  use  were 
advertised.  Little  accommodations  and 
civilities  were  universal,  and  closely  bound 
large  neighborhoods  together. 

In  Sub-Ccelum  the  people  did  not  snore,  the  people 
They  had  trained  themselves  to  avoid  the  snore. 
disagreeable  act.  This  will  not  appear 
strange  when  it  is  remembered  that  in  at 
least  one  great  nation  the  children  do  not 
cry.  Harsh,  high-sounding  respiration  was 
never  heard.  Their  breathing  apparatus 
had  been  improved  by  long  avoidance  of 
it.  Their  nostrils  had  grown  like  the 
deer's  by  habitually  inhaling  through  them. 
They  had  learned  to  keep  their  mouths 
shut,  except  while  speaking  or  eating. 
Taking  the  air  straight  into  the  lungs  was 
considered  unhealthy  and  unwise.     Their 


180  Sub-Coelum 

ears,  too,  had  increased  in  sensitiveness  by 
the  good  habit.  The  external  organ  was 
exclusively  relied  upon,  as  nobody  opened 
Rehgatedto  his  mouth  to  hear  more  distinctly.  That 
clownish  way  was  relegated  to  farce.  The 
women,  naturally,  had  first  learned  to  sleep 
without  making  a  noise  ;  and,  in  time,  the 
habit  became  intolerable  in  the  coarser  sex. 
The  former  had  read  of  a  grand  seignior 
hundreds  of  years  before,  and  had  profited 
perhaps  by  the  lesson.  He  kept  qualified 
persons,  whose  duty  it  was  to  travel 
through  the  whole  empire,  to  see  and 
choose  the  fairest  and  rarest  women,  hav- 
ing leave  to  enter  all  places,  nay,  their  very 
bed-chambers,  to  view  them  in  what  pos- 
tures they  pleased,  but  chiefly  to  know 
whether  they  snored  or  stirred  much  in 
their  sleep,  or  whether  they  slept  quietly  ; 
and,  having  made  choice,  they  carried  them 
to  the  prince,  and  their  parents  were  much 
honored  and  esteemed. 

whistling.  Nor  was  whistling  heard  in  Sub-Coelum. 
It  was  a  lost  art,  not  worthy  of  the  name. 
It  had  departed  with  other  barbarisms,  but 
reluctantly.  The  tendency  seemed  to  have 
been  born  in  the  people,  and  was  nearly 
ineradicable.      Its  stubbornness  had  been 


A  Production  of  Satan  181 

one  of  the  discouraging  things  in  their 
progress.  At  first,  society  laughed  at  the 
effort  to  discourage  and  prevent  it.  It 
was  the  universal  safety  valve.     As  a  last  Theumver- 

e    .  .  ,     .  .  sal  safety 

resort  of  impatience  and  irritation  it  was  valve, 
regarded  as  indispensable.  Convincing 
argument  was  answered  by  it.  It  relieved 
the  thinking  faculty  of  vexation.  By  it 
audacity  announced  its  defiance,  and  mean- 
spirited  husbands  insulted  their  patient 
wives.  Nowhere  the  noise  was  not  heard. 
It  was  the  gauge  of  happiness,  the  stan- 
dard of  ebullient  emotion.  Nothing 
showed  thoughtlessness  like  the  unpremed- 
itated whistle.  The  tones  of  it  were  the 
gamut  of  impulse,  and  might  be  marked, 
as  degrees  of  temperature.  Vanity  varied 
them,  as  it  adjusted  the  drinking-man's 
hat,  hanging  it,  at  last,  on  his  organ  of 
self-esteem.  Oft-repeated  legends,  mixed 
with  religion,  had  a  good  influence.  It  be- 
gan to  be  said  that  the  whistler's  mouth 
was  not  to  be  purified  till  after  forty  days  ; 
that  the  offensive  sound  was  produced  by 
Satan's  touching  the  human  body ;  and 
that  the  act  was  disrespectful  to  God.  Disrespect- 
Even  a  whistling  noise  of  any  sort  scared 
away  the  Holy  Ghost.  A  woman  tried  to 
coax  a  dog   by  whistling,   when    a   pious 


1 82  Sub-Caiiim 

servant  interrupted  her,  Please,  ma'am, 
don't  whistle  ;  every  time  a  woman  whis- 
tles the  heart  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  bleeds. 
In  some  districts  it  was  said  that  if  one 
it  made  the  whistled  in  the  evening  it  made  the  angels 

angels  weep.  . 

weep.  It  was  a  widespread  belief  —  more 
than  a  superstition  —  that  it  was  at  all 
times  unlucky  for  women  to  make  the  im- 
pious sound,  as,  while  the  nails  for  the 
Cross  were  being  forged,  a  woman  stood 
by  and  whistled.  But  the  thing,  perhaps, 
that  had  the  greatest  influence  in  ridding 
the  nation  of  the  nuisance  was  a  famous 
instance  of  heredity  everywhere  known. 
The  child  and  grandchild  of  a  persistent 
whistler  were  born  with  mouths  puckered, 
as  if  in  the  act  ;  and,  as  long  as  they  lived, 
they  could  only  take  spoon  food,  and  that 
by  a  tube  adapted  to  the  purpose.  The 
cases  were  so  peculiar  that  surgery  did  not 
risk  attacking  them,  and  they  remained  a 
perpetual  warning  against  irreligion  and 
bad  manners. 

dentistry       It   was   remarkable   how   generally   the 

not  a  Prof-  111  1  1  /-r-i  1 

itable  pro-  people  had  good  teeth.  I  hey  were  lus- 
trous, like  ivory,  and  beautiful  to  view. 
It  was  a  rare  thing  they  were  lost,  except 
by  accident  or  by  wearing  away.     Dentis- 


FBSSION. 


A  General  Blessing  183 

try  was  not  a  profitable  profession.  Many 
causes  might  be  found  for  this  general 
blessing.  The  intelligence  the  people  car- 
ried into  their  living  was  perhaps  the  chief. 
Their  food,  as  you  have  seen,  was  health- 
ful, and  thoroughly  cooked.  They  realized 
the  importance  of  good  digestion,  as  being  importance 
the  basis  of  all  physical,  intellectual,  and  gestion. 
moral  soundness.  Foods  of  every  kind  had 
been  scientifically  and  practically  studied, 
and  their  effects  accurately  determined. 
Dinners  of  tragedians,  it  was  said,  were 
adapted  to  their  parts  ;  they  ate  pork  when 
they  had  to  play  tyrants,  beef  for  murder- 
ers, boiled  mutton  for  lovers.  One  of  their 
great  poets,  seeing  another  sedulously  oc- 
cupied with  an  underdone  beefsteak,  in- 
quired, Are  you  not  afraid  of  committing 
murder  after  such  a  meal  ?  Much  wis- 
dom, they  said,  was  in  olives,  and  that  soup 
and  fish  explained  half  of  the  emotions  of 
life.  Fries  had  been  utterly  banished  from  Fries  utterly 
the  Commonwealth.  Thorough  mastica- 
tion was  considered  a  necessity  to  health, 
and  rapid  eating  an  offense  against  de- 
cency. The  pigs,  even,  had  been  trained 
to  something  like  moderation  in  feeding. 
The  people  sat  long  at  table,  with  abun- 
dance of  good  talk,  and  kindness,  for  sauce. 


1 84 


Sub-Ccehim 


Eructation 
unpardona- 
ble. 


They  were  ashamed  of  indigestion,  know- 
ing very  well  that  it  meant  excessive  in- 
dulgence. Admitting  it  was  advertising 
their  intemperance.  Eructation  was  dis- 
gusting and  unpardonable.  For  the  teeth, 
especially,  sound  digestion  was  considered 
better  than  any  dentifrice.  Deleterious 
drugs  had  not  been  used  for  very  many 
years.  There  had  not  been  a  case  of  sali- 
vation in  all  that  time.  Devices  to  sweeten 
the  breath  of  maidens  were  not  known,  for 
the  good  reason  that  they  were  not  needed. 
The  air  they  exhaled  in  respiration  was  as 
sweet  as  zephyr  in  a  garden  of  roses.  The 
breath  of  kine  was  not  to  be  compared 
with  it.  It  was  more  like  a  cherub's  in 
perfection  of  fragrance.  Cleanliness  was 
the  thing  of  all  things  they  relied  upon. 
It  extended  not  more  to  the  care  of  their 
teeth  than  to  everything  pertaining  to  their 
living.  It  was  a  large  part  of  their  reli- 
gion. Purity  was  not  more  shown  in  their 
complexions  and  conduct  than  in  their 
shining  teeth  and  lustrous  great  eyes. 


fondnbss        The  reader,  following  the  writer  thus  far, 
rels.  has  inferred  the  general  fondness  for  squir- 

rels.    They  were  the  universal  pets  of  the 
people.    Their  liveliness  commended  them, 


A  Suggestive  Lesson  185 

and  their  remarkable  cleanliness.  To  see 
them  airing,  sunning,  and  inspecting  their 
beds,  bit  by  bit,  was  a  suggestive  lesson  in 
housekeeping.  Insects  or  vermin  found  no 
quarter  with  them.  The  climate  was  favor-  ciimaufa. 
able  to  the  interesting  little  animal.  The  " 
native  species  were  many  and  attractive. 
Others  were  acclimated  and  domesticated 
without  much  difficulty.  Even  the  great 
Malabar  squirrel,  thirty-three  inches  long, 
and  as  large  as  a  cat,  was  transplanted  suc- 
cessfully. The  tendency  of  the  common 
species  to  trouble  the  nests  of  birds  dimin- 
ished with  the  care  they  received.  The 
predatory  in  their  natures  was  largely  elim- 
inated by  humanizing  influences.  Like 
many  other  animals,  they  betrayed  a  liking 
for  children.  While  they  did  not  permit 
themselves  to  be  handled  to  any  great  ex- 
tent—  their  self-respect  prohibiting  that  — 
they  were  very  free  to  run  over  the  per- 
sons of  those  that  they  liked  ;  peering  into 
pockets  and  perching  themselves  on  shoul- 
ders in  familiar  ways.  Occasionally,  in  Familiar 
favorable  seasons,  the  squirrels  of  the  for- 
est would  multiply  so  abundantly  that  days 
were  appointed  to  hunt  them.  Only  at 
such  times  were  they  generally  killed  and 
eaten.     In  summer   they   seemed  particu- 


1 86  Sub-Ccelum 

larly  to  delight  in  the  fruit-trees  at  the 
sides  of  the  roads.  They  ran  from  tree  to 
a  racing  tree  as  if  in  a  racing  contest  with  the  pass- 
ing wheels.  The  alertness  of  their  move- 
ments and  cheerfulness  of  their  bearing 
were  so  inspiring  that  no  wonder  the  little 
fellow  was  a  favorite.  With  his  prominent 
eyes  and  broad  head  he  seemed  to  see  and 
comprehend  everything  about  him.  The 
cleft  upper  lip  gave  an  amused  and  affec- 
tionate expression  to  his  animated  face. 
The  soft  fur  was  always  clean,  and  free  of 
any  disturbed  look ;  and  his  long,  beautiful 
tail,  expanded  laterally,  and  carried  ele- 
gantly over  his  back,  was  a  picture  of  light- 
ness and  grace  nobody  tired  of  seeing. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  snarling  or 
threatening  in  his  appearance  or  conduct. 
He  was  the  embodiment  of  cleanliness, 
cheerfulness,  gracefulness,  and  good  hu- 
mor, and  was  a  perpetual  inspiration  to  his 
biped  sympathizers.  One  of  the  amuse- 
ments at  the  ponds  was  to  set  him  on  a 
bit  of  wood  and  see  him  floated  about  by 
the  breezes.  With  his  tail  for  a  sail,  he 
appeared  the  ideal  navigator. 

respect  Great  respect  was  paid  to  the  monkey 

monJey™8  by  the  humane  inhabitants  of  Sub-Ccelum. 


The  Simian  Species  187 

No  small  proportion  of  their  population 
had  descended  from  countries  where  he 
was  an  object  of  worship,  and  was  raised 
to  the  rank  of  a  god.     Gorgeous  temples  Gorgeous 

temples. 

were  erected, 

With  pious  care  a  monkey  to  enshrine. 

History  describes  one  of  great  magnifi- 
cence ;  it  was  fronted  by  a  portico  for  re- 
ceiving victims  sacrificed  to  it,  which  was 
supported  by  no  less  than  seven  hundred 
columns.  Hospitals  were  erected  for  their 
benefit,  where  thousands  were  kept  in 
fancied  ease  and  indulgence.  One  of  the 
cities,  upon  its  surrender  to  an  invading 
army,  contained  a  population  of  forty  thou- 
sand, and  as  many  monkeys.  Specialists 
in  Sub-Ccelum  were  interested  in  observ- 
ing the  simian  species,  and  noting  their 
peculiarities.  The  belief  was  by  no  means 
limited  that  the  human  race  was  descended 
from  the  monkey.  One  species,  at  least, 
of  ape,  was  entirely  destitute  of  tail.  Stu-  Destitute  of 
dents  of  the  animal  monkey  had  collected 
a  great  number  of  interesting  facts,  show- 
ing his  resemblance  in  conduct  and  traits 
to  the  animal  man.  One  female  went  out 
to  service,  made  the  beds,  swept  the  house, 
and  so  far  assisted  in  the  cooking  as  to 
turn  the  spit.     One  on  board  a  man-of-war 


1 88  Sub-Ccclum 

assisted  the  cook  and  turned  the  capstan, 

and  furled  sails  as  well  as  any  of  the  sail- 

Assistedin   ors.     Monkeys  had  assisted  in  tea  picking: 

tea  picking.  J  7 

in  countries  were  tea  was  produced.  One 
pious  fellow,  like  many  of  the  religious 
castes  of  his  country,  entertained  an  an- 
tipathy to  an  indiscriminate  use  of  animal 
food,  and  would  eat  neither  of  the  flesh 
of  the  cow  or  hog ;  sometimes  he  tasted 
beef,  but  never  eat  of  it.  The  young  of 
one  species  were  tended  with  greatest  care, 
the  females  having  been  seen  to  carry  their 
children  to  the  banks  of  a  stream,  wash 
them,  notwithstanding  their  cries,  and  wipe 
and  dry  them  in  the  most  careful  manner. 
A  certain  specimen  would  open  a  chest  or 
drawer  by  turning  the  key  in  the  lock, 
would  untie  knots,  undo  the  rings  of  a 
chain,  and  search  pockets  with  a  delicacy 
of  touch  which  would  not  be  felt  until  the 
thief  had  been  discovered.  On  board  ship 
an  attempt  being  made  to  secure  an  orang- 
outang by  a  chain  tied  to  a  strong  staple, 
Unfastened  he  instantly  unfastened  it,  and  ran  off  with 

his  chain.  .  .  . 

the  chain  dragging  behind  ;  but,  finding 
himself  embarrassed  by  its  length,  he 
coiled  it  once  or  twice,  and  threw  it  over 
his  shoulder.  In  making  his  bed  he  used 
the   greatest   pains  to  remove  everything 


Human-Like  Expression  i8g 

out  of  his  way  that  might  render  the  sur- 
face on  which  he  intended  to  lie  uneven ; 
and  having  satisfied  himself  with  this  part  Must  first 
of  his  arrangement,  spread  out  the  sail, 
and  lying  down  upon  it  on  his  back,  drew 
it  over  his  body.  Sometimes  the  captain 
preoccupied  his  bed,  and  teased  him  by 
refusing  to  give  it  up.  On  these  occasions 
he  would  endeavor  to  pull  the  sail  from 
under  the  captain,  or  to  force  him  from  it> 
and  would  not  rest  till  he  had  resigned  it ; 
if  it  was  large  enough  for  both,  he  would 
quietly  lie  down  by  the  captain's  side.  He 
preferred  coffee  and  tea,  but  would  readily 
take  wine,  and  exemplified  his  attachment 
to  spirits  by  stealing  the  captain's  brandy 
bottle.  He  would  entice  the  boys  of  the 
ship  into  play  by  striking  them  with  his 
hand  as  they  passed,  and  bounding  from 
them,  but  allowing  them  to  overtake  him 
and  engage  in  a  mock  scuffle,  in  which  he 
used  his  hands,  feet,  and  mouth.  He  never 
condescended  to  romp  with  another  mon-  Romped 

.«.,.«.«  c  only  with  the 

key  on  board  as  he  did  with  the  boys  of  boys. 
the  ship.  Persons  who  aided  in  killing  a 
red  orang-outang,  stated  that  the  human- 
like expression  of  his  countenance,  and 
piteous  manner  of  placing  his  hands  over 
his  wounds,  distressed  their  feelings,  and 


i  go 


Siib-Coclum 


A  curious 
instance. 


made  them  question  the  nature  of  the  act 
they  were  committing.  A  checked  shirt 
was  frequently  thrown  over  a  specimen, 
which  he  wore  with  great  complacency. 
One  day  a  gentleman  wearing  linen  of  a 
similar  pattern  appeared  in  the  room,  and 
was  immediately  singled  out,  nor  was  the 
animal  satisfied  until  he  was  allowed  to  ex- 
amine the  shirt,  pulling  it  out  from  the 
breast,  and  holding  it  in  comparison  with 
that  which  covered  himself,  expressively 
looking  up  in  the  gentleman's  face,  as  if 
doubtful  of  his  right  to  a  garb  which  agreed 
so  nearly  with  his  own.  One  said  of 
monkeys  as  a  dish  that  they  were  excel- 
lent eating,  and  that  a  soupe  aux  singes 
would  be  found  as  good  as  any  other,  as 
soon  as  you  had  conquered  the  aversion  to 
the  bouilli  of  their  heads,  which  looked 
very  like  those  of  little  children.  Very 
remarkable,  they  said,  and  curious  beyond 
measure,  were  the  seeming  consciousness 
instinct  of    of  evil  and  apparent  instinct  of  Satan  that 

Satan.  rr 

these  very  human  animals,  under  certain 
circumstances,  exhibited.  Turtles  and  ser- 
pents were  sometimes  put  into  the  cells  of 
poor  captives.  They  did  not  much  care 
for  the  turtles,  but  the  snakes  were  the 
very  devil. 


Proverbial  Fidelity  igi 

The  dog,  next  to  man,  was  esteemed  for  Qualities 

.  .     .  .  AND  FACUL- 

his  companionable  qualities,  and  for  his  in-  ties  of  the 
tegrity.  His  estimable  nature  was  recog- 
nized and  appreciated,  and  was  developed 
in  every  way  that  was  practicable.  Kind- 
ness and  encouragement  did  for  him  what 
it  did  for  humanity.  Treated  like  a  dog 
was  not  a  saying  in  that  country.  Bad 
dogs  were  not  more  numerous  than  bad 
men,  and  were  as  mercifully  treated.  Only 
incorrigibleness  cost  them  their  lives. 
Hopeless  depravity  in  man  or  dog  was 
guarded  or  punished  as  humanity  willed 
or  permitted.  Cruelty  was  for  savages. 
High  qualities  of  the  animal  were  as  well 
comprehended  as  those  of  man.  His  fidel- 
ity had  ever  been  proverbial.  Other  ani- 
mals acknowledged  kindness,  but  were  in- 
capable of  voluntary  sacrifices.     Only  man  Only  man 

11  i         •    i        i      i       •      i  •  •       a"d  dog  self- 

and  dog  spontaneously  risked  their  lives  in  sacrificing. 
the  service  of  others.  A  portion  of  the 
population  were  of  a  race  of  affectionate 
and  polite  savages,  who  claimed  their  de- 
scent directly  from  a  dog.  They  were 
described  by  the  traveler  as  having  low, 
musical  voices,  with  a  smile  full  of  sweet- 
ness and  light.  So  descended,  the  animal 
was  their  close  friend  and  associate.  He 
was  taught  to  do  many  useful,  graceful,  and 


ig2  Sub-Ccelum 

generous  things ;  but  especially  he  was 
used  as  a  guard  and  protector.  In  one  of 
the  churches  on  Mount  Athos  was  a  fresco 
representing  Saint  Christopher  with  a 
dog's  head.  Many  instances  were  related 
of  his  fidelity  to  the  point  of  death.     He 

a  true  phi-  was  pronounced  a  true  philosopher  by  the 
greatest  of  philosophers,  because  he  distin- 
guished the  face  of  a  friend  and  of  an 
enemy  only  by  the  criterion  of  knowing 
and  not  knowing.  Whenever  he  saw  a 
stranger  he  betrayed  mistrust  ;  when  an 
acquaintance,  he  welcomed  him,  although 
the  one  had  never  done  him  any  harm,  nor 
the  other  any  good.  He  determined  what 
was  friendly  and  what  was  unfriendly  by 

Knowledge  the  test  of  knowledge  and  ignorance.     It 

Tancf"0  was  a  saying  that  when  you  go  to  visit  a 
friend  at  his  house,  you  can  perceive  his 
friendliness  the  moment  you  enter  the 
door,  for  first  the  servant  who  opens  the 
door  looks  pleased,  then  the  dog  wags  his 
tail  and  comes  up  to  you,  and  the  first  per- 
son you  meet  hands  you  a  chair,  before  a 
word  has  been  said.  Intelligence  and  cor- 
diality were  much  the  same  in  man  and 

Dog  wheat,  animal.  Dog  Wheat  was  not  a  perfect 
dog  ;  he  had  his  aversions,  as  men  have. 
He  snatched  cats,  and  they  fell  dead.     But 


or  a 

walk. 


Incidents  193 

he  was  magnanimous  towards  his  own  ;  he 
took  the  part  of  small  dogs,  and  of  dogs 
that  were  muzzled.  Two  friends,  man  and 
dog,  went  out  for  a  walk  together.  The  Out/c 
latter  had  contracted  a  deep  cold,  and 
suffered,  on  the  road,  two  or  three  violent 
paroxysms  of  coughing.  Returning  to  the 
village,  master,  or  superior,  had  occasion  to 
go  into  a  shop  where  sweetmeats  and  can- 
dies of  all  kinds  were  kept  for  sale.  While 
passing  a  word  with  the  proprietor,  some- 
thing was  heard  to  fall  upon  the  floor  a  few 
paces  away.  Turning  round  he  discov- 
ered   that   Diogenes  had   reached  up  and  ntogews's 

.  wisdom. 

knocked  down  a  package  of  medicated 
candy  — marrubium  vulgare  —  and  was  ea- 
gerly eating  it.  He  knew  what  was  good 
for  his  cough.  A  faithful  but  sinful  dog, 
misnamed  Pluto,  had  been  betrayed  by  his 
immaculate  master  into  the  hands  of  an 
executioner.  When  the  unhappy  creature 
comprehended  his  hopeless  situation,  and 
just  before  the  fatal  axe  crushed  his  per- 
verted  brain,   he  gave   his  false  friend  a  Pi"tos/aisc 

friend. 

searching,  miserable  look,  as  much  as  to 
say,  What  has  Pluto  done  to  you,  that  you 
should  betray  him  to  death  in  this  perfidi- 
ous manner  ?  The  astonished,  appealing 
expression  of  discovery  and  rebuke  haunted 


i94 


Sub-Coelum 


the  conscience-smitten  owner  in  hours  of 
disturbed  sleep  and  wakefulness.  It  infixed 
itself  in  his  memory,  it  distressed  his  soul. 
The  incident  was  made  public,  and  ever 
afterwards  the  killing  of  the  canine  species 
was  determined  by  Council. 


Horses 
bred  FOR 
Moral 
Qualities. 


Rivalry 
general. 


Horses,  as  said  before,  were  bred  for 
moral  qualities,  rather  than  for  speed  and 
strength.  Good  temper  and  trustworthiness 
were  prime  considerations.  They  were 
treated  with  great  kindness,  and  were 
trained  to  many  valuable  and  ornamental 
uses.  Breaking,  or  violent  usage  of  the 
young  animal,  was  not  known.  His  spirit 
was  not  crushed,  but  cultivated,  along  with 
other  good  qualities.  He  was  found  to  be 
good  as  he  was  well  treated.  He  grew 
in  beauty,  also,  under  affectionate  care. 
Horsemanship  was  a  favorite  amusement 
of  the  people.  The  beautiful  shaded 
roads  invited  and  encouraged  it.  Rivalry 
was  general  in  all  fitting  feats  and  exer- 
cises. Ladies  and  gentlemen  were  ambi- 
tious of  distinction  in  them.  Men  did  not 
allow  themselves,  Mazeppa-like,  to  be  bound 
to  wild  horses,  and  let  loose  on  the  plains 
and  roads  ;  nor  women  to  represent  Godiva, 
with   flowing   hair   and  close-fitting  suits. 


Poetry  in  Motion  ig$ 

Grace  gave  distinction  rather  than  daring 
or  boldness.  Beauty  on  horseback  was 
supereminent,  and  received  homage.  Po- 
etry in  motion  was  a  fair  woman  and  her 
proud  palfrey  so  perfectly  matched  that, 
centaur-like,  they  appeared  and  moved  centaur- 
y's, one,  unconsciously,  semi-human  and 
semi-equine,  —  tasting  in  fullness,  in  the 
master's  language,  purest  life  as  it  came 
from  the  bosom  of  the  deities.  Amphithea- 
tres were  not  uncommon,  where  displays 
were  made  in  horsemanship.  Horses  were 
trained  to  perform  graceful  evolutions,  cir- 
cumpositions,  and  convolutions,  and  to  en- 
joy them.  The  circus  was  a  favorite  place 
of  entertainment  for  the  people.  What 
will  and  the  human  body  could  not  do,  was 
a  never-ending  problem  of  interest.  They 
were  proud  of  their  bodies  and  their  minds, 
and  liked  to  see  them  tested  cooperatively, 
especially  in  equestrian  exercises.  The 
superior  intelligence  of  their  horses  was 
illustrated  in  the  reply  of  the  distinguished  Reply  of  a 
rider,  when  asked  if  there  were  not  times 
when,  from  physical  or  other  causes,  he 
felt  doubtful  about  being  able  to  perform 
his  difficult  feats.  Yes,  he  said,  there  were 
such  times  ;  but  his  horse  always  knew  of 
them  !     Aware  of  his  increased  responsi- 


igb  Sitb-Ccehim 

bility,  the  noble  animal  was  more  than  ever 
thoughtful  and  circumspect  —  accommo- 
dating himself  carefully  to  his  rider,  being 
At  the  right  always  exactly  at  the  right  place  at  the 
flghuiml  right  time.  Famous  horses,  grown  old, 
were  not  neglected  as  in  other  countries. 
The  fastest  mile  horse  of  his  day,  in  one 
of  them,  was  consigned  to  a  coach,  and  at 
length  was  found  in  a  ditch,  stoned  to 
death.  Another,  as  celebrated,  was  draw- 
ing a  cab,  after  having  won  seventeen  races. 
The  religion  of  the  people,  as  well  as  their 
humanity,  forebade  such  brutality.  Hap- 
pily, they  were  not  insensible  to  pity  or 
shame. 

love  for  The  birds,  of  course,  were  favorites  of 
this  enlightened,  tasteful,  and  kindly  pop- 
ulation. They  recognized  in  them  many 
of  the  same  qualities  and  traits  they  pos- 
sessed themselves,  and  delighted  to  study 
them.  Of  the  more  than  eight  thousand 
known  species  they  enjoyed  a  generous 
proportion.  They  were  not  so  far  away 
from  the  equator  but  that  they  had  many  of 
the  most  beautiful  tropical  varieties.  The 
superabundance  of  the  flowers  invited  them, 
especially  the  humming-bird.  Over  one 
hundred  of  the  more  than   four  hundred 


Wisdom  of  Birds  jgy 

species  of  that  interesting  family,  from  the 
smallest  to  the  greatest,  were  found  within 
their  borders.  Even  the  little  flame-bearer  Theiutu 
—  sometimes  found  inside  the  crater  of  an  bearer. 
extinguished  volcano — was  occasionally 
discovered.  Its  scaled  gorget  was  of  such 
a  flaming  crimson  that,  as  a  naturalist  re- 
marked, it  seemed  to  have  caught  the  last 
spark  from  the  volcano  before  it  was  extin- 
guished. It  seemed  to  prefigure  the  re- 
finement and  glory  so  often  resulting  from 
complete  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  to  the 
worn-out  and  helpless.  The  wisdom  of  the 
little  birds  interested  them.  Mention  was 
made  of  a  nest  of  one  beautiful  species, 
which,  being  heavier  on  one  side  than  on 
the  other,  was  weighted  with  a  small  stone 
to  preserve  the  equilibrium.  They  did  not 
permit  the  wanton  destruction  of  the  hum- 
ming-bird, or  other  varieties  of  birds  of 
bright  plumage,  for  mere  decorative  pur- 
poses, as  less  enlightened  peoples  had  in- 
dulged, to  the  almost  entire  extinction  of 
many  genera.  Their  experience  had 
taught  them  that  all  birds  were  useful,  and 
they  referred  to  their  perfect  and  abun- 
dant fruits  and  grains  of  every  kind  as  evi- 
dence of  it.  The  great  bird  of  paradise,  Great  bird 
so  rarely  found  in  any   other  part  of  the " 


ig8  Siib-Coelum 

world,  was  not  uncommon  in  Sub-Ccelum. 
The  splendid  ornaments  of  this  species 
were  entirely  confined  to  the  male  sex,  the 
female  being  a  very  plain  and  ordinary 
bird ;  though  the  young  males  of  the  first 
year  so  exactly  resembled  the  females  that 
they  could  only  be  distinguished  by  dissec- 
tion. Whence  these  philosophical  people 
Anar&t-  deduced  an  argument  for  limiting  coeduca- 
'dZ'ed. "  tion  !  The  fact  that  the  ordinary  bird  of 
paradise,  from  the  very  nature  of  his  plum- 
age, could  not  fly  except  against  the  wind, 
illustrated  to  them  the  habit  and  necessity 
of  approximate  virtue  in  a  world  of  violence 
and  temptation.  Supreme  pride,  and  an 
unconquerable  love  of  freedom,  were  seen 
in  the  quetzal,  a  native  of  the  tropics,  re- 
sembling a  parrot.  It  was  so  constituted 
that  if  but  one  of  its  feathers  was  plucked 
it  instantly  died.  If  an  attempt  was  made 
to  cage  the  strange  feathered  visitant,  it  de- 
liberately attempted  suicide  by  pulling  out 
its  own  feathers,  preferring  death  to  captiv- 
ity. A  species  of  variegated  woodpecker, 
called  the  carpenter,  interested  them,  for 
Fidelity  and  the  fidelity  and  devotion  it  exhibited.     If 

devotion.  .  . , ,      .     .  .  . 

one  were  killed,  it  was  rare  that  its  mate 
did  not  come  and  place  itself  beside  the 
dead  body,  as  if  imploring  a  similar  fate. 


Incarnate  Selfishness  igg 

The  wren  was  their  type  and  model  of 
content  and  confidence.  Instances  were 
known  where  young  ones  that  had  been 
disturbed  and  threatened  were  found  in 
the  nests  of  robins,  by  whom  they  were 
fed  and  protected.  They  did  not  like  the 
cuckoo,  for  the  incarnate  selfishness  it  dis- 
played. It  would  deposit  its  eggs  in  the  The  cuckoo. 
nests  of  other  insectivorous  birds,  not  more 
than  one  in  a  nest,  leaving  the  care  of  the 
young  entirely  to  the  foster  parents  thus 
selected.  A  distinguished  poet  and  close 
observer  of  nature  was  asked  why  it  hap- 
pened that  so  many  young  singing  birds 
were  lost  for  a  single  young  cuckoo.  In  the 
first  place,  he  said,  the  first  brood  is  gener- 
ally lost ;  for  even  if  it  should  happen  that 
the  eggs  of  the  singing  bird  are  hatched  at 
the  same  time  with  that  of  the  cuckoo, 
which  is  very  probable,  the  parents  are  so 
much  delighted  with  the  larger  bird,  and 
show  it  such  fondness,  that  they  think  of 
and  feed  that  alone,  whilst  their  own  young 
are  neglected,  and  vanish  from  the  nest. 
Besides,  the  young  cuckoo  is  always  greedy  Always 
and  demands  as  much  nourishment  as  the 
little  insect-eating  birds  can  procure.  It 
is  a  very  long  time  before  it  attains  its  full 
size  and  plumage,  and  before  it  is  capable 


200  Sub-Ccelum 

of  leaving  the  nest,  and  soaring  to  the  top 
of  a  tree.  And  even  a  long  time  after  it 
has  flown  it  requires  to  be  fed  contin- 
ually, so  that  the  whole  summer  passes 
away,  while  the  affectionate  foster-parents 
constantly  attend  upon  their  great  child, 
Do  not  think  and  do  not  think  of  a  second  brood.     It  is 

of  a  second  .   .  .  .        . 

brood.  on  this  account  that  a  single  young  cuckoo 
causes  the  loss  of  so  many  other  young 
birds.  But  they  did  enjoy  the  blackbird, 
for  his  loquacity  and  gregariousness.  They 
had  studied  his  language,  and  understood 
him  when  he  talked.  Their  interpretations 
were  very  amusing.  Nothing  delighted 
them  more  than  to  see  him  bathing  in 
moulting  time,  and  he  alike  enjoyed  the 
admiration  he  excited.  There  were  places 
along  the  shallow  streams  where  great 
flocks  assembled  for  that  purpose.  Half 
an  hour  before  sunset  was  a  favorite  time 
for  the  entertainment.  Successively  and 
simultaneously  they  rose  out  of  the  water, 
chattering  as  they  ascended,  and  shaking 
out  their  glittering  plumage,  they  filled  the 

Myriads  o/  air  with  myriads  of  rainbows  —  reminding 

rainbows.  .  .     ,  .     , 

observers  of  the  ascent  of  the  great  groups 
of  gay  butterflies,  described  by  travelers  in 
the  tropics,  —  orange,  yellow,  white,  blue, 
green,  —  which,  on   being    disturbed,  rise 


Naturalists'  Enthusiasm  201 

from  the  moist  beach  of  the  pools  into  the 
air  by  hundreds  and  hundreds,  forming 
clouds  of  variegated  colors. 


Insects  and    reptiles   of  all    sorts   were  insects  and 

■  tvt      1   •         Reptiles. 

objects  of  interest  and  study.  Nothing 
pleased  the  children  more  than  to  fasten  a 
little  snake  in  the  grass  with  a  forked  stick 
an  inch  or  two  behind  its  head,  and  on  their 
knees  with  a  good  glass  to  look  inspect- 
ingly  into  his  interesting  face.  And  the 
little  beauty,  they  always  said,  looked  into 
their  faces  with  as  much  interest  as  they 
did  into  his.  Some  sensation  was  created 
in  an  electric  railway  carriage,  where  there 
were  many  passengers,  by  the  escape  of  a 
boxful  of  mountain  adders ;  but  the  boy 
soon  gathered  up  his  pets  without  damage 
or  difficulty.  The  wife  of  a  distinguished 
naturalist  found  one  morning  in  one  of  her 
slippers  a  cold,  little  slimy  snake,  one  of 
six  sent  the  day  before  to  her  scientific 
husband,  and  carefully  set  aside  by  him 
for  safety  under  the  bed.  She  screamed, 
There  is  a  snake  in  my  slipper!  The  ThesavanCs 
savant  leaped  from  his  couch,  crying,  A  tum. 
snake !  Good  heavens  !  Where  are  the 
other  five  ?  Strange,  the  people  naturally 
exclaimed  with  the  philosopher,  that  nature 


202 


Siib-Ccelum 


Infusoria. 


White 
mould  in 
ink. 


was  never  so  powerful  as  in  insect  life. 
They  were  ever  ready  with  striking  exam- 
ples. The  white  ant  could  destroy  fleets 
and  cities,  and  the  locusts  erase  a  province. 
And  then  how  beneficent  they  were ! 
Man  would  find  it  difficult  to  rival  their 
exploits  :  the  bee  that  gave  honey ;  the 
worm  that  gave  silk ;  the  cochineal  that 
supplied  the  brilliant  dyes.  But  infusoria  ! 
One  saw  in  a  little  drop  of  water  on  a  piece 
of  glass  a  whole  world  of  insects,  of  which 
the  largest  looked  like  grasshoppers,  the 
smallest  as  pins'  heads.  Some  of  them 
were  really  like  grasshoppers,  others  had 
the  most  monstrous  shapes,  all  were  tum- 
bling about  each  other,  and  the  big  ones 
swallowed  their  smaller  neighbors.  He 
saw  infusoria  in  his  own  blood  ;  it  swarmed 
with  eels  and  cod  and  all  sorts.  It  was  no 
optical  illusion  ;  he  saw  the  forms  of  the 
insects  and  the  movements  of  the  different 
joints  ;  and  besides,  when  he  touched  the 
globule  with  the  point  of  a  pin  dipped  in 
acid,  they  at  once  fled  to  the  other  side 
and  died  a  moment  after.  The  white 
mould  in  ink  appeared  a  great  forest, 
with  plants,  trees,  and  bushes  ;  the  infi- 
nite opened  before  him,  and  he  turned 
dizzy. 


In  Universal  Sympathy  203 

All  this  to  give  some  idea  of  the  character  character 
and  mental  resources  of  the  people.     They  tal  re- 

,  ....  ...         SOURCES. 

were  simple  in  tastes  and  philosophic  in 
tendency,  and  their  humanity  was  broad 
enough  to  cover  every  living  substance. 
This  love  of  life,  and  perception  of  conscious 
existence,  brought  them  in  contact  and 
sympathy  with  every  pulsating  organism, 
whether  of  man,  animal,  insect,  bird,  or 
reptile.  The  smallest  living  object  was  as 
wonderful  to  them  as  the  greatest,  and 
commanded  their  admiration  and  rever- 
ence. Their  greatest  happiness  was  in  in- 
tellectual and  moral  activity.  The  possi- 
bilities of  mental  achievement  and  moral 
elevation  determined  their  aims  and  duties. 
This  tendency  to  universal  investigation 
had  not  only  established  the  feeling  of  uni- 
versal brotherhood,  but  had  opened  the 
way  to  its  possible  accomplishment.  No- 
thing seemed  small  that  looked  to  that 
end.  The  utmost  that  any  one  could  do 
was  only  a  little  —  the  aggregate  was  the 
crown    of    mortality.      Man   was    less   to  t/u  crown 

of mortality. 

them  than  men,  but  manhood  was  above 
the  mass,  and  not  to  be  compounded. 
That  was  scrupulously  in  view  and  practice 
throughout  all  their  education  and  civiliza- 
tion. It  had  the  good  effect  to  fix  responsi- 


204  Sub-Coehim 

bility.  Society  was  not  held  responsible  for 
conduct,  however  much  it  might  influence 
The  individ- \\..  The  individual  was  the  immortal,  and 
'mortal""'  not  the  multitude.  Multitudes  might  dis- 
solve, as  solid  bodies,  into  particles,  but  in- 
dividuals, as  atoms,  were  not  lost  in  the 
dissolution.  The  utmost  estimate  was  put 
upon  a  just  and  enlightened  man,  and  he 
was  not  disparaged  nor  degraded  but  by 
himself.  There  were  limits  to  fusion  with 
the  multitude.  Surrender  was  incompatible 
with  sound  growth.  Discipline  was  much, 
but  did  not  constitute  character.  Wheels 
and  cogs  were  not  the  motive  power.  Char- 
acter grew  by  individual  endeavor,  and  was 
exalted  by  worthy  aims.  Powers  were  de- 
veloped and  determined  by  being  constantly 
tested.  A  thing  acquired  by  the  man  him- 
self was  more  than  acquisition,  it  was  dis- 
covery. The  habit  of  individual  effort  and 
Not  to  be      investigation  made  it  impossible  to  knead 

kneaded  into  .  _,..'...  . 

masses.  men  into  masses.  Their  intrinsic  and  in- 
destructible personality  occasioned  only 
effervescence  and  explosion  whenever 
the  attempt  was  made,  —  which  was  not 
often,  as  a  memory  of  consequences  was 
not  quick  to  die  out.  The  people  were 
very  generous  in  compromise,  but  not  to 
the  extinction  of  personal  rights  and  obli- 


The  Business  of  Society  205 

gations.  Their  tolerance  was  unqualified, 
but  as  the  principle  of  give  and  take  quali- 
fied it.  They  gave  as  they  demanded.  Im- 
patient of  intrusion,  they  did  not  intrude. 
The  business  of   society   was  to  help  the  Help  to  the 

......  .  ,         .   ■  ,,„  individual. 

individual,  not  to  absorb  him.  Where 
every  man  was  a  man,  that  was  impossible. 
There  was  not  anything  of  which  the  Sub- 
Ccelumite  was  so  sensitively  jealous  as  of 
the  undisturbed  possession  of  the  ground 
each  one  stood  upon.  His  title  was  of 
God,  and  his  ownership  was  not  to  be 
questioned.  He  met  his  obligations  and 
acknowledged  citizenship,  but  not  to  the 
last  extremity.  There  was  always  a  point 
where  compliance  would  be  extinction  or 
slavery.  Abreast  and  arm-in-arm  he  was 
willing  to  move  generally,  not  always.  As 
he  respected  himself  he  respected  others. 
He  would  not  tread  upon  nor  be  trodden. 
He  granted  the  large  liberty  he  exacted. 
By  his  personal,  individual  efforts  he  had 
become  contradistinguished,  as  every  other  Contradi*. 
man  had  who  deserved  the  name.  He 
had  not  aimed  to  be  like  any  other,  but  to 
be  himself.  His  study  of  the  ant  had 
made  him  reverent  of  him,  as  of  the 
species.  The  gifts  of  individual  and  asso- 
ciated  character    appeared   in   the   insect 


206 


Siib-Ccelum 


Intelligence 

inculcated 

humanity. 


commonwealth  as  in  Sub-Coelum.  They 
matched  as  they  were  known,  and  were  not 
underestimated  as  they  were  perceived  in 
either.  Intelligence,  in  whatever  crea- 
ture, inculcated  humanity,  as  sentient  ex- 
istence inspired  reverence.  All  was  of 
God,  for  His  own  wise  purposes,  and  ines- 
timable but  by  Him.  From  ant  to  man 
was  a  sweep  the  Sub-Coelumite  did  not  pre- 
tend to  compass.  He  bowed  low,  and 
trusted. 


Personal 
Indepen- 
dence. 


Conditions 

always 

changing. 


Personal  independence  —  born  of  intel- 
ligence, plain  living,  and  individual  devel- 
opment —  was  a  marked  characteristic  of 
the  population.  Habits  of  reflection,  self- 
denial,  and  just  self-estimation,  made 
them  poor  material  for  the  demagogue  and 
crafty  churchman.  They  could  not  be 
trained,  at  will,  to  perpetual  thoughtless 
subordination  and  submission  into  sects  and 
parties.  Not  that  they  resisted  coopera- 
tion, but  that  conditions  were  always 
changing,  and  that  the  point  of  observa- 
tion of  any  one  was  never  long  exactly  the 
same.  Deference  to  others  did  not  signify 
involuntary  surrender  of  themselves.  Pa- 
triotism made  them  generous  in  political 
action,  but  not  heedless,  nor  personally  irre- 


Charitable  to  Others  207 

sponsible.  Being  essentially  religious,  in 
all  that  the  word  implies,  they  were  char- 
itable to  others  alike  so,  and  were  unfit-  unfitted/or 
ted  for  sectarian  antagonism.  Feeling  and  animism. 
judgment,  operating  together,  prevented 
any  rash  committal  that  might  be  embar- 
rassing or  unjust  to  themselves  or  others. 
They  did  not  love  power  for  the  sake  of  it. 
They  respected  minorities  as  much  as  ma- 
jorities, because  of  the  possibility  of  their 
being  in  the  right,  and  of  the  probability  of 
their  preponderance  upon  a  slight  turn  of 
affairs.     They  were  conservative  of  neces-  comerva- 

1  r     1      ■  n  1   ti  1     tize  of  neces- 

sity, because  01  their  reflection  and  liberal-  sity. 

ity  of  judgment.  Only  conscience  brought 
them  to  a  stand  of  defiance  or  aggressive- 
ness. What  was  wrong  was  not  to  be 
compromised  with  ;  but  the  common  weal 
was  always  of  interest  in  every  heart,  and 
divisions  were  generally  upon  modes  and 
processes.  It  had  been  many,  many  years 
since  they  had    been   drawn    into   a   war,  a  war/or 

,        1  .  .  i      r  .  personal 

and  that  was  intestine,  and  for  personal  liberty. 
liberty.  A  crisis  had  arisen  when  a  dis- 
tinction was  made  between  the  rights  of 
individuals  and  classes,  not  in  harmony 
with  fundamental  policy  or  sound  morals. 
Every  man  was  guaranteed  freedom :  each 
to  enjoy  the  same  rights  and  be  entitled  to 


208 


Sub-Coelum 


the  same  protection  as  any  other.  The 
conflict  had  not  been  possible  but  for  in- 
flamed passions  and  ambitious  leaders. 
Love  of  power  and  love  of  place,  aggra- 
vated by  material  interests,  arrayed  section 
against  section,  and  blood  of  brothers 
flowed,  almost  without  limit.  Mere  busi- 
ness questions  could  not  have  so  bitterly 
divided  them,  even  at  that  time  ;  but  later, 
from  any  cause,  such  antagonism  was  im- 
Bioody  war.  practicable.  Bloody  warfare  was  an  extrem- 
{'hZghtof.  ity  not  to  be  thought  of.  Leadership  that 
would  commit  them  to  it  was  impossible. 
To  the  point  of  desperation  partisan  zeal 
was  not  to  be  excited.  Leaders,  indeed, 
were  only  for  a  season,  and  then  only  be- 
cause they  were  indispensable.  Organi- 
zation for  a  purpose  did  not  pledge  continu- 
ance for  any  other.  Each  movement  was 
independent,  and  not  connected  with  any 
scheme  of  personal  ambition  or  emolument. 
Men  wiser  Men  were  wiser  than  sheep,  who  follow 
their  leader  whithersoever  he  may  please 
to  lead  them.  With  what  devotedness  the 
woolly  hosts  adhere  to  their  wether ;  and 
rush  after  him,  to  speak  with  the  rugged 
philosopher,  through  good  report  and 
through  bad  report,  were  it  into  safe 
shelter    and  green   thymy  nooks   or   into 


A  Significant  Illustration  209 

asphaltic  lakes  and  the  jaws  of  devouring 
lions.  It  is  worth  repeating,  that,  if  you 
hold  a  stick  before  the  leader,  so  that  he 
by  necessity  leaps  in  passing  you,  and  then 
withdraw  your  stick,  the  flock  will  neverthe- 
less all  leap  as  he  did,  and  the  thousandth 
sheep  shall  be  found  impetuously  vaulting  impetuously 
over  air,  as  the  first  did  over  an  otherwise  over  air. 
impassable  barrier.  The  people  delighted 
in  this  illustration  of  leadership  and  blind 
following.  In  their  amphitheatres  they  re- 
peated it,  again  and  again,  for  amusement 
and  instruction.  Sensitive  to  satire,  and 
proud  of  their  personality,  the  lesson  im- 
pressed itself  upon  them  in  a  manner  to 
make  them  distrustful  of  unnecessary  disci- 
pline. When  they  accepted  a  leader,  it  was 
unavoidable,  and  not  without  qualification. 
Following  last  year  was  not  a  reason  why 
they  should  do  the  same  this.  In  conse- 
quence, dissolution  was  as  inevitable  as 
organization,  and  a  result  of  it.  The  ambi- 
tious demagogue  and  subtle  priest  did  not 
find  them  plastic   in  their  dextrous  hands.  Not  plastic 

r    ......     in  dextrous 

As  said,  they  were  thoughtful,  individual,  hands. 
self-respecting,  responsible  human  beings  — 
not  poor,  silly,  timid  sheep,  to  be  led  and 
herded  and  butchered  by  kings  and  priests 
and  heroes  without  questioning. 


2IO 


Siib-Coeliim 


Individual- 
ity Made 
Them  In- 
teresting. 


Every  man 
a  neiv  crea- 
tion. 


Life  like  a 
game  of 
chess. 


This  individuality  made  them  interest- 
ing. Even  the  average  man  was  not  com- 
monplace from  conformity,  nor  the  most 
inferior  servile  by  submission.  While  of 
the  mass,  they  were  separable,  if  not  self- 
separated.  They  avoided,  as  said,  that  gen- 
eral language  and  general  manner  which 
tended  to  hide  all  that  was  peculiar  — 
in  other  words,  whatever  was  uppermost 
in  their  own  minds,  after  their  own  indi- 
vidual manner.  Every  man,  in  their  phi- 
losophy, as  expressed  by  the  philosopher, 
was  a  new  creation,  could  do  something 
best,  had  some  intellectual  modes  and 
forms,  or  a  character  the  general  result  of 
all,  such  as  no  other  in  the  universe  had, 
which  needs  made  him  engaging,  and  a 
curious  study  to  every  inquisitive  mind. 
They  did  not  look  at  life  as  a  game  of 
checkers,  as  reformers  are  apt  to  do,  where 
every  man  has  the  same  fixed  powers  and 
the  same  even  line  of  moves.  They  re- 
garded life,  to  use  the  illustration  of  an- 
other, not  as  a  game  of  checkers,  but  as  a 
game  of  chess,  where  every  piece  has  in- 
dividual characteristics,  where  every  pawn 
has  a  chance  to  be  a  queen,  where  the 
powers  and  possibility  of  each  piece  change 
with  every  move  or  change  of  square,  in- 


The  Typical  Citizen  211 

fluenced  by  past,  present,  and  future,  so 
that  every  piece  may  develop  into  any 
other  by  recognition  of  the  law  of  inequal-  The  lam  of 
ity  that  presides  over  individuality,  2XL&lHcquaiy' 
each  move  opens  new,  divine,  and  won- 
drous possibilities.  That  view  of  life 
taught  each  man,  if  possible,  to  put  a  just 
estimate  upon  himself,  to  live  appropriately, 
and  to  realize,  if  practicable,  his  own  ideal. 
He  was  made  to  believe,  as  was  truly  said, 
that  his  real  influence  was  measured  by 
his  treatment  of  himself;  that  he  must 
first  find  the  man  in  himself,  if  he  would 
inspire  manliness  ;  that  like  begets  like  the  Like  begets 
world  over.  The  typical  citizen,  conse- 
quently, stood  eminently  a  man  amongst 
his  fellows.  Genuineness  identified  him. 
He  did  not  want  any  recognition  he  did 
not  deserve.  If  influence  or  fame  came  to 
him  it  was  his  desert.  It  was  not  asked 
which  side  he  was  on.  Though  possessing 
the  humility  of  true  learning,  his  mental 
enlargement  was  discerned  and  appre- 
ciated. Better  than  fame,  it  had  been 
truly  said,  was  the  silent  recognition  of 
superior  knowledge.     It  was  something  to  something 

i  •  ■         o    T.  /■*      1  tt-     tobeasttpe- 

be  a  superior   man   in    bub-Ccelum.     His  nor  man. 
rank  was  that  of  a  citizen  of  the  universe, 
whose   mind,  as   described,    was  made   to 


212  Siib-Coclum 

be  spectator  of  all,  inquisitor  of  all,  and 
whose  philosophy  compared  with  others  as 
astronomy  with  other  sciences ;  taking 
post  at  the  centre,  and,  as  from  a  specular 
mount,  sending  sovereign  glances  to  the 
circumference  of  things.  Serene,  above 
the  clouds  of  passion  and  contending  inter- 
ests, he  preserved,  to  use  the  happy  lan- 
Equipoheof  guage  of  another,  that  equipoise  of  man- 
ner  which  told  of  an  equanimity  of  life. 
His  stature  had  been  determined  by  possi- 
bility. He  had  made  the  most  of  himself 
within  his  power.  He  had  been  open  and 
receptive,  and  had  invited  understanding 
from  all  things  and  all  men.  Nothing  was 
too  small  for  his  consideration,  nor  too 
great  for  his  admiration.  There  was  no 
challenge  of  superiority,  no  apparent  con- 
sciousness of  supremacy.  Any  one  might 
approach  him,  but  no  one  could  appropriate 
him.  Conspiracies  did  not  disturb  him,  as 
from  their  nature  they  must  fall  apart. 
He  did  not  perceive  slights,  nor  care  to 
Envy  comprehend  their  spirit.  Envy  was  oblique 
"miration,  admiration.  Because  great,  he  did  not 
contend  with  smaller  men  in  small  things. 
The  platform  was  not  to  his  taste,  however 
worthy  of  it.  Exhibition  of  himself  was  a 
cheapening  of  his  character.     The  essen- 


Not  for  Display  213 

tial  was  occult,  and  did  not  care  to  be  made 
self-conscious.  It  was  for  inspiration,  and 
not  for  display.  The  causes  of  things  are 
silent,  however  tremendous  may  be  their 
results.  He  did  not  exact,  being  sure  of  a 
full  measure  of  whatever  was  his  due.  De- 
serving was  fate.  Impatience  was  weak-  Deserving 
ness,  and  evidence  of  self-distrust.  The 
courage  of  his  heart  was  for  worthy  enter- 
prises, and  could  not  be  wasted  upon 
trivialities.  He  did  not  hurt  his  powers 
by  an  ignoble  use  of  them.  Wings  for 
possible  flight  into  the  empyrean  were  not 
to  be  impaired  by  rude  uses.  His  best 
faculties  were  for  best  work,  and  were  not 
dissipated  upon  nothings.  He  did  not  care 
to  usurp  or  invade  ground  already  too 
well  occupied.  Room,  of  all  things,  was 
what  he  most  wanted,  for  growth  and 
development. 

While  absolute   personal   freedom    westhbLawof 

Diversity. 

secured  to  all  men,  no  attempt  was  ever 
made  to  produce  social  equality  ;  that  had 
been  left  exclusively  to  self-regulation.  The 
beautiful  and  interesting  law  of  diversity  in 
all  things  had  been  established  from  the 
foundation.  Out  in  the  forest,  under  the 
spreading  tree,  looking  up  at  the  luxuriant 


214  Sub-Cain  in 

foliage,  you  may  not  think  of  the  difference 
between  the  leaves  ;  but  pull  down  a  limb, 
and  spend  an  hour  comparing  them  ;  you 
find,  much  as  they  resemble,  that  no  two 

Plumage  of  are  precisely  alike.  Examine  the  plumage 
of  the  owl  that  you  cruelly  brought  clown 
with  your  rifle  ;  every  feather  of  his  beau- 
tiful dress  differs  from  every  other ;  and, 
what  is  more  remarkable,  every  fibre  of 
every  feather  is  another  feather,  still  more 
delicate,  differing  from  every  other,  all  of 
which  together  yield  to  the  pressure  of 
your  hand  like  floss  silk.  No  wonder  he 
fell  upon  the  mischievous  mole  or  mouse  as 
noiselessly  as  the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  Go 
down  to  the  seashore  ;  the  tide  is  out ; 
there  is  an  apparent  waste  of  white  sand, 
a  dull  extent  of  uniformity ;  but  stretch 
yourself  on  the  beach,  which  the  innumer- 
able differing  waves  have  beaten  to  incom- 
parable smoothness,  and  examine  leisurely, 
with  a  good  glass,  a  few  hundred  of  the  in- 

Grainsof  finite  grains  which  you  thought  to  be  the 
same,  and  you  discover  that  they  differ, 
that  each  is  differently  shaped,  each  holds 
the  light  differently,  and,  what  is  more 
wonderful  than  all,  each  appears  to  be  a 
shell,  or  part  of  a  shell,  which  was  once  the 
abode  of  a  creature,  and  a  different  crea- 


sand. 


Could  They  Exchange  Souls?       215 

ture  from  every  other  inhabiting,  or  that 
ever  inhabited,  any  other  shell  of  the 
ocean.  Look  into  the  crowded  street ;  the 
men  are  all  men  ;  they  all  walk  upright ; 
they  might  wear  each  other's  clothes  with- 
out serious  inconvenience  ;  but  could  they 
exchange  souls  ?  What  professor,  ex- 
claimed the  philosopher,  has  ever  yet  been 
able  to  classify  the  wondrous  variety  of  The  won- 
human  character  ?     How  very  limited   as  ety  of  human 

,       ,,-       ,  ,  character. 

yet  the  nomenclature  !  We  know  there 
are  in  our  moral  dictionary  the  religious, 
the  irreligious,  the  virtuous,  the  vicious, 
the  prudent,  the  profligate,  the  liberal,  the 
avaricious,  and  so  on  to  a  few  names,  but 
the  comprehended  varieties  under  these 
terms  —  their  mixtures,  which,  like  colors, 
have  no  names  —  their  strange  complexi- 
ties and  intertwining  of  virtues  and  vices, 
graces  and  deformities,  diversified  and 
mingled,  and  making  individualities  —  yet 
of  all  the  myriads  of  mankind  that   ever  The  myriads 

,  .  .         ...  of  mankind 

were,  not  one  the  same,  and  scarcely  alike  :  unlike. 
how  little  way  has  science  gone  to  their 
discovery,  and  to  mark  their  delineation  ! 
A  few  sounds,  designated  by  a  few  letters, 
speak  all  thought,  all  literature,  that  ever 
was  or  will  be.  The  variety  is  infinite, 
and  ever  creating  a  new  infinite ;  and  there 


216  Sub-Ccclitm 

is  some  such  mystery  in  the  endless  variety 
E>,diess  va,  of  human  character.     Such  endless  variety 

riety  con-  ,  .  .  , 

spinous.  was  conspicuously  seen  in  the  population 
of  Sub-Ccelum.  It  was  impossible,  with 
their  intellectual  activity  and  prevailing 
disposition  to  make  the  most  of  them- 
selves, that  it  could  be  otherwise.  Free- 
dom of  choice  in  vocation,  avocation,  and 
association  only  made  the  natural  dissimi- 
larity more  apparent.  Freedom,  freedom, 
without  infringement  of  the  privileges, 
rights,  or  liberty  of  others,  was  the  pride 
of  every  Sub-Ccelumite.  Fetters,  gyves, 
shackles,  were  his  aversion :  he  would  not 
wear  them.  Badges,  even,  he  hated,  as 
compromising  his  freedom.  His  sense  of 
liberty  was  shown  in  an  incident  in  one 
of  the  foreign  revolutions,  when  so  many 
persons  of  different  views  assumed  the  tri- 
color for  protection.  One  well-known  per- 
son refused  to  wear  it.  A  workingman 
meeting  him  in  the  street  addressed  him  : 
Reason/or  Citizen  !  why  do  you  not  wear  the  badge  of 
'the  badge,  freedom?  To  which  the  distinguished  per- 
son replied  that  it  was  to  show  to  the  world 
that  he  was  free !  In  exact  proportion  to 
their  happy  and  complete  freedom  was 
their  unqualified  tolerance  and  liberality. 
Intolerance  was  so  utterly  absent  from  the 


One  Compendious  Unity  21 7 

spirit  and  habit  of  their  lives  that  they  did 
not  even  comprehend  it.  Why  another 
should  be  deprived  of  what  they  enjoyed 
themselves  was  one  of  the  profound  mys- 
teries. A  distinguished  professor  in  a  for- 
eign university  showed  a  visitor  a  very 
pleasing  print,  entitled,  Toleration.  A  Toleration. 
Roman  Catholic  priest,  a  Lutheran  divine, 
a  Calvinist  minister,  a  Quaker,  a  Jew,  and 
a  philosopher,  were  represented  sitting 
round  the  same  table,  over  which  a  winged 
figure  hovered  in  the  attitude  of  protection. 
For  this  harmless  print  the  artist  was  im- 
prisoned, and,  having  attempted  to  escape, 
was  sentenced  to  drag  the  boats  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  vyith  robbers  and  mur- 
derers ;  and  there  soon  died  from  exhaus- 
tion and  exposure.  The  Christianity  of 
the  Sub-Ccelumite  had  survived  all  the 
barbarisms  of  other  forms,  and  was  broad 
enough  to  include  all  differences  in  one 
compendious  unity — his  philosophy  and 
religion  cherishing  and  protecting  it,  as 
the  figure  in  the  picture. 


Behind  all  their  civilization,  and  apparent  the 
in  every  detail  of  it,  was  the  healthful  habit  habitof 

r  x  1  1  r    i  OcCUPA- 

01   occupation.     It    made  men  seli-depen-  -non. 
dent,  self-sacrificing,  intelligent,  and  happy. 


2i  8  Sub-Coelum 

Idleness  was  disreputable.  Homes  for 
the  Indolent  were  not  established  to  ele- 
vate it,  but  to  warn  against  it,  and  to  bring 
additional  shame  upon  slothfulness  and  in- 
application.     The  servitude  of  involuntary 

The  vice  o/  labor  was  a  quick  corrective  of  the  vice 
of  indolence.  Poverty  was  rare,  and  not  a 
disgrace,  except  when  no  effort  was  made 
to  escape  from  it.  Wants  were  few  and 
inexpensive.  The  necessaries  of  life  were 
cheap  and  abundant.  The  vices  were  not  in 
the  market,  being  largely  eliminated.  Great 
sums  formerly  paid  for  them  were  directed 
to  better  uses.  Appetites  were  sound, 
and  did  not  require  costly  stimulation. 
Like  the  passions,  they  were  largely  sub- 
servient to  reason,  but  in  exceptional  cases. 
Enjoyments  were  found  satisfying  in  pro- 
portion as  they  were  pure.  Evil  propensi- 
ties and  depraved  affections  were  believed 
to  be  perversions  wholly  out  of  nature. 
Observation  of  the  habits  of  animals  was 

a  lesson  in   a   perpetual  lesson  in    moderation.      The 

moderation.  ,  .    ,  ,  , 

beasts  that  perish  were  decent  compared 
with  gross  men.  The  habit  of  uprightness 
kept  them  in  line  from  the  centre  of  the 
earth  to  the  top  of  heaven.  Hours  of  labor 
being  few,  occupation  in  the  main  was  vol- 
untary.     Well-applied    skill  and    industry 


Every  Man  a  Laborer  219 

easily  supplied  all  that  was  necessary.  All 
labor  was  alike  honorable.  Poverty  was 
not  dishonorable  in  itself,  but  only  where 
it  arose  from  idleness,  intemperance,  ex- 
travagance, and  folly,  a  maxim  of  theirs  de- 
scended from  the  ancients.    There  were  no  Everyone 

,  ,.  ,  1   •  r  did  some- 

drones,  as  every  one  did  something  for  a  thing /or  a 
living.  Whether  with  brain  or  hands,  every 
man  was  a  laborer.  Sympathy  and  frater- 
nity were  inevitable ;  contempt,  one  of 
another,  impossible.  Whether  in  the  gar- 
den, the  workshop,  the  senate,  or  the  field, 
each  one  was  accepted  a  man,  and  was  ex- 
pected to  walk  worthily.  The  grub  in  the 
fresh  furrow,  and  the  blackbird  that  de- 
voured it,  were  resources  for  his  intellect, 
as  the  food  his  labor  brought  him  was  sus- 
tenance for  his  body.  As  he  trod  the 
clods,  the  earth  moved  to  meet  him. 
Whatever  his  occupation,  when  he  stepped 
out  under  the  blue  dome,  and  looked  up  at 
the  galaxies,  he  beheld,  with  the  enraptured 
poet,  the  Street-lamps  of  the  City  of  God. 
His    mind  his  kingdom  was,  and  not  the  His  mind 

.  .     ,  his  kingdom 

shop  or  farm,  ever  and  ever.     He  was  less  was. 
for  the  morrow   than  for  the  everlasting. 
Leisure,  to  those  who  knew  rightly  how  to 
employ  it,  they  held  with  the  philosopher 
to  be   the  most  beautiful  of   possessions  ; 


220  Sub-Coelum 

yet  without  this  knowledge  it  became  bur- 
densome and  a  fate.  One  must,  they  said, 
espouse  some  pursuit,  taking  it  kindly  at 
heart  and  with  enthusiasm.  Fruit  he  must 
bear  or  perish  of  lassitude  and  ennui.  Lei- 
sure to  be  perfectly  enjoyed  must  be  earned 
Leisure  that  —  then  it  is  divine.     It  opens  the  windows 

is  divine.  r  .  .  .  .... 

ot  promise,  and  receives  what  it  invites,  to 
fullness.  Rightly  employed,  as  in  Sub- 
Ccelum,  it  fills  society — to  borrow  just 
words  —  with  gentlemen,  of  inherent  self- 
respect  and  inherent  courtesy  ;  it  fills  it, 
also,  with  ladies,  of  purest  mould  and  di- 
vinest  exemplariness.  It  made  the  people 
self-sacrificing,  with  opportunity.  It  was 
a  maxim  with  them,  that  man  is  never 
wrong  while  he  lives  for  others  ;  that  the 
philosopher  who  contemplates  from  the 
rock  is  a  less  noble  image  than  the  sailor 
who  struggles  with  the  storm.  Recogni- 
tion or  compensation  of  humane  service 
was  not  in  the  least  a  consideration.  The 
Lesson  of  the  lesson  of  the  Wise  Man,  in  language  and 
spirit,  was  ever  before  them  :  There  was 
a  little  city,  and  few  men  within  it ;  and 
there  came  a  great  king  against  it,  and  be- 
sieged it,  and  built  great  bulwarks  against 
it :  Now  there  was  found  in  it  a  poor  wise 
man,  and  he  by  his  wisdom  delivered  the 


luise  man. 


Importance  of  Habit  221 

city  ;  yet  no  man  remembered  that  same 
poor  man. 

The  frequent  use  of  the  words  probably  probably 
and  perhaps,  and  their  equivalents,  was  haps.  er 
characteristic  of  the  people.  It  showed 
that  consideration  and  deliberation  were 
habitual  in  their  speech.  Care  was  taken 
to  impress  upon  the  young  the  importance 
of  these  words.  They  were  printed  upon 
cards  and  hung  upon  the  walls  of  school- 
rooms. Sentences  illustrating  their  value 
and  correct  employment  were  written  on 
the  blackboards.  In  these  ways  the  diffi- 
culty or  impossibility  of  absolute  know- 
ledge was  stamped  upon  the  growing  mind, 
and  the  necessity  of  circumspection  in 
speech  impressively  enforced.  They  were 
taught  the  importance  of  habit  —  in  that 
as  in  everything.  Frequent  reiteration 
fixed  in  the  memory  the  valuable  precept,  valuable 
Choose  the  course  which  is  best,  and  habit 
will  make  it  easy.  Truth  holding  the  first 
place  in  their  system  of  education,  ap- 
proaches to  it  were  opened  and  guarded  in 
every  practicable  manner.  Frequent  repe- 
tition was  required  to  make  the  pupils  ac- 
curate, and  to  impress  them  with  a  sense  of 
accountability.     Dogmatic  statement,  from 


222  Sub-Ccelum 

its  very  nature,  was  suspected.  It  closed 
every  avenue  but  the  one  traveled  over  by 
him  that  made  it.  It  also  had  an  element 
of  violence  in  it  that  was  inimical  to  just 

Disputation,  thinking.  Disputation  was  its  life.  There 
is  an  account  of  an  orator  who  was  wonder- 
fully choleric  by  nature  and  indulgence ; 
to  one  who  supped  in  his  company,  a  man 
of  gentle  and  sweet  conversation,  and  who, 
that  he  might  not  move  him,  approved  and 
consented  to  all  that  he  said  ;  he,  impa- 
tient that  his  ill-humor  should  thus  spend 
itself  without  aliment :  For  the  love  of 
the  gods  !  contradict  me  in  something,  said 
he,  that  we  may  be  two !  When  thinkers 
met  together  to  think,  or  dilate,  they  did 
not,  so  to  speak,  answer  one  another ;  they 
permitted  to  thought  the  utmost  freedom, 
consistent  with  just  intellectual  hospital- 
ity, and  did  not  antagonize  it ;  they  might 
differ  from  it,  but  not  by  direct  reference. 
Thought  stimulated  but  did  not  provoke. 
Disputation  was  out  of  the  question  in  in- 
dependent thinking.  While  each  one  was 
free  to  express  himself,  a  like  liberty  was 

Dogmatic     not  denied   to   any  other.     Dogmatic  dis- 

discussion.  .  .    ,        t         . , ,       , , 

cussion  was  not  consistent  with  their  con- 
ception of  intellectual  growth.  Where 
each  one  knew  a  little,  and  no  one    pre- 


Avoided  Detraction  223 

sumed  to  know  all,  the  way  to  a  fair  under- 
standing was  not  difficult.  Feuds  were 
discouraged  in  every  possible  way.  Hard 
names  were  not  given  to  men  and  things, 
certain  of  their  reaction,  as  of  their  injus- 
tice.     The  habit  was  to  say  the  most  fa-  Thdiabitto 

ill-  r  1  •  1  say  favora- 

vorable  things  of  others,  and  to  avoid  ue  things. 
detraction.  If  a  harmful  thing  was  idly 
or  viciously  said  of  a  neighbor,  some  one 
present  was  sure  to  make  a  note  of  it.  If 
not  apologized  for  and  withdrawn,  account- 
ability for  it  was  fixed.  Dangerous  gossip 
in  this  way  was  largely  prevented.  Truth 
and  falsehood  were  discriminated.  Visit- 
ing faults  and  sins  upon  those  innocent  of 
them  was  not  a  fashion  of  general  adop- 
tion. Their  religion  was  against  it  as 
well  as  their  habit  and  philosophy.  They 
looked  to  their  own  conduct,  rather  than 
to  their  neighbors'  :  for   it  they  were  ac-  Accountable 

,  ,  r  •  for  their 

countable,  and  not  for  theirs.  Ever  pres-^«^«^^- 
ent  with  them,  and  not  to  be  forgotten, 
was  their  profound  sense  of  personal  re- 
sponsibility —  the  foundation  and  super- 
structure of  their  ethics  and  religion. 
All  of  which  promoted  good  neighbor- 
ship and  inspired  security.  The  man,  they 
said,  who  delights  in  giving  you  full  credit 
for   every   excellence  you   possess,  rather 


224  Sub-Caium 

than  in  belittling  you  by  an  exaggeration 
a  treasure,  of  your  foibles,  is  a  treasure  ;  and  the  pro- 
tection you  feel  in  the  neighborhood  of 
such  a  man,  law  could  not  give  you.  He 
shuts  your  gate,  he  protects  your  child,  he 
guards  your  reputation  ;  he  does  the  fair 
and  generous  thing.  If  men  were  weighed 
and  not  counted,  such  an  one  would  over- 
balance many  of  poorer  material.  A  wise 
man,  having  a  farm  to  sell,  bid  the  crier 
proclaim  also  that  it  had  a  good  neighbor. 

the  social      It  was  another  of  their  maxims,  that  mis- 

CONSCIENCE.  -  ,.  ,  . 

understandings  and  neglect  occasion  more 
mischief  in  the  world  than  even  malice  and 
wickedness,  and  they  looked  to  them  es- 
pecially. Only  the  very  few  indeed,  by 
what  has  been  called  the  alchemy  of  pri- 
vate malice,  concocted  a  subtle  poison  from 
the  ordinary  contacts  of  life.  For  the  fun 
of  the  thing,  not  for  the  mischief  of  it,  the 
world  there,  as  everywhere,  prattled  on. 
Sometimes  it  was  cruel ;  but  it  was  the 
cruelty  of  the  thoughtless  boy.  It  did  not 
much  concern  itself,  for  the  time  being, 
about  justice  or  injustice.  To  the  sources 
it  did  not  much  care  to  go  if  it  could.  It 
preferred  to  see  with  its  eyes  rather  than 
with  its  head,  —  by  its  senses  rather  than 


Idle  Personalities  225 

by  its  reason.    It  saw  outwardly,  and  talked 

for    recreation  —  irresponsibly,    too  often, 

and  without  reflection.     When  it  criticised 

or  ridiculed,  it  did  not  always  consider  that 

the  best  continually  blunder  and  stumble,  Thebeu 

and  only  learned  to  keep  their  feet  by  fall-  stumble. 

ing.     Morally  as  well  as  physically.      If  an 

invisible   knocking   machine   tapped  each 

one   on    the   head   the  instant   and  every 

time  he  meant  evil  or  thought  wrong,  what 

a  getting  up   there  would   be  !      What  a 

scene  the  street  would  present !      To  the 

church    or   the   market   the   same.      The 

world  laughs;  —  with  us,  and  then  at  us. 

Careless  words  sometimes  left  their  sting, 

and  rankled  long  after  they  were  uttered. 

Repeated,    the   wound    was   less    curable. 

Thy  friend  has  a  friend,  and  thy  friend's 

friend  has    a   friend ;  be   discreet ;  was   a 

saying  they  did  not  always  carry  in  their 

minds.     The  inward  wounds  that  are  given 

by  the  inconsiderate  insults  of  wit,  they  did  inconsider- 

.  .  ate  insults  of 

not  always  wisely  remember  are  as  danger-  wit. 
ous  as  those  given  by  oppression  to  infe- 
riors ;  as  long  in  healing,  and  perhaps 
never  forgiven.  Particular  pains  were 
taken  to  impress  these  truths  upon  the  less 
reflective.  They  were  taught  the  danger 
of  idle  personalities,  and  that  the  mischiefs 


226  Siib-Ccelum 

they  created  were  sure  to  be  permanent  if 
not  soon  corrected.  A  habit  of  often  re- 
viewing their   social  relations  was  urged, 

Expiana.  and  pretty  generally  adopted.  Explanation 
was  promptly  made  whenever  it  was 
thought  just  and  merited.  If  the  slightest 
cloud  was  discovered  on  an  acquaintance's 
face  upon  meeting  him,  time  was  not  lost 
in  removing  it.  If  avoidance  was  percepti- 
ble in  the  conduct  of  any  one,  the  reason 
of  it  was  sought,  and  good  relations  were 
restored.  The  social  conscience  was 
quickened  and  enlightened  by  these  good 
offices.  While  it  was  not  possible,  with 
the  utmost  circumspection,  to  altogether 
prevent  misunderstandings,  it  was  found 
easy  to  correct  them  by  going  a  little  more 
than  half  way  towards  it.  The  conscious- 
ness of  possible  offense  was  enough  to 
prompt  explanation  and  apology.  While 
words  and  circumstances  were  remembered, 
and  not  aggravated  or  perverted  by  brood- 
ing, candor  and  truthfulness  were  sure  to 

Maike        make   all  plain   and   satisfactory.     Malice 

thwarted.  ...  . 

was  thwarted  by  anticipation  and  preven- 
tion, and  memory  was  not  even  disturbed 
by  the  remembrance  of  misconception  or 
difference.  A  better  understanding  was 
established,  and  the  friendship  temporarily 


Kindness  to  Children  22j 

lost  was  made  permanent.  Neglects  were 
atoned  for  by  greater  consideration  and 
kindness.  Affection  was  fed  by  tenderness, 
and  starved  hearts  restored  by  bounteous 
sympathy.  Ill-treatment  of  children  was 
one  of  the  gravest  of  social  offenses.  It 
was  considered  a  mean  and  cowardly  in-  a  grave  so. 

/~  c      .  t      •  •    i   •  i       C'^  offense. 

lquity.  One  ot  the  distinguishing  marks 
of  a  thorough  gentleman  was  his  consider- 
ate kindness  to  children.  Their  favorite 
novelist  had  said  —  a  favorite  on  account 
of  his  searching,  sympathetic,  profound 
humanity — that  in  the  little  world  in 
which  children  have  their  existence,  there 
is  nothing  so  finely  perceived  and  so  finely 
felt  as  injustice.  It  may  be  only  small  in- 
justice that  the  child  can  be  exposed  to  ; 
but  the  child  is  small,  and  its  world  is 
small,  and  its  rocking-horse  stands  as  many 
hands  high,  according  to  scale,  as  a  big- 
boned  coursing  hunter. 


MENTS. 


Amusements  were  simple  —  as  far  as  amuse- 
possible  educational  and  hygienic  —  and 
adapted  to  the  multitude.  The  tone  of 
their  theatres  was  generally  elevated  —  in 
no  sense  degrading.  Comedy  and  tragedy 
of  the  highest  order  were  preferred.  Stage 
dress  was  limited  to  decency.     Representa- 


228  Sub-Ccelum 

tions  that  would  occasion  a  blush  the  pub- 
lic taste  prohibited.  Applause  was  judi- 
cious, and  never  clamorous.  Doors  were 
closed  before  the  performance  commenced. 
Thetheatre.  Disturbance  from  going  in  and  out  was  not 
permitted.  People  went  to  see  the  play, 
and  not  to  display  themselves.  Showy 
dress  was  considered  vulgar  —  refined  peo- 
ple avoided  it.  At  the  opera,  greater  free- 
dom was  indulged  ;  the  audience  being  a 
larger  part  of  the  entertainment.  Eyes 
were  feasted  at  the  same  time  that  minds 
and  tastes  were  gratified.  As  before  said, 
the  people  most  delighted  in  oratorio,  and 
their  dress  and  behavior  were  much  the 
same  as  at  the  theatre.  Too  elaborate 
adornment  made  them  self-conscious,  and 
limited  their  enjoyment  of  the  higher,  bet- 
ray circus,  ter  music.  The  circus  was  more  generally 
popular  than  any  other  entertainment.  Its 
character  brought  together  great  audiences 
—  appealing  especially  to  the  senses.  The 
masses  of  humanity,  comfortably  seated 
and  happy,  were  a  great  spectacle.  Twenty 
thousand  was  not  an  unusual  audience. 
Physical  education  was  inspired  by  the 
amphitheatre,  and  added  interest  was  given 
to  the  gymnasium.  Pedestrianism  was  a 
favorite   amusement    and   exercise   of   the 


Pedestrianism  22g 

people.  It  taught  grace,  and  gave  vigor 
and  health  to  the  constitution.  It  stirred 
the  mind,  whetted  the  appetite,  and  drove 
away  melancholy.  So  common  was  the 
healthful  diversion  that  no  able-bodied  per- 
son thought  of  spending  a  day  without  a 
long  walk.      Their   beautiful    roads   were  Their  beau- 

.    .  ,  .  T       r  .         tif ul  roads. 

most  inviting  to  pedestrians.  In  favorable 
weather,  walkers  were  never  out  of  view. 
Women  as  well  as  men  enjoyed  the  pas- 
time. The  grace  and  beauty  of  their 
movements  were  a  perpetual  charm. 
Springs  of  sweet  water  were  at  convenient 
distances  on  the  highways,  affording  de- 
lightful resting-places.  Manly  men  and 
womanly  women  exchanged  courtesies. 
Bright  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  and  musical 
voices  animated  these  natural  and  acci- 
dental meetings.  Cupid  was  close  about, 
and  Hymen  not  far  off,  and  nobody  could  Hymen  not 
guess  what  a  morning  would  bring  forth. 
Dancing,  of  course,  was  a  chosen  amuse- 
ment ;  but  it  was  scrupulously  limited  and 
guarded.  Public  balls,  where  anybody 
might  be  admitted  for  the  money,  were  not 
tolerated  —  even  by  the  most  inferior  of  the 
population.  The  universal  self-respect 
tabooed  all  such  degradation.  Pyrotechnic 
displays  were  common,  especially  on  anni- 


2j?o 


Sub-Ccclitm 


versaries  and  other  popular  occasions. 
Great  crowds  assembled  to  witness  them. 
Perfect  order  prevailed  in  these  street  as- 
semblages. Not  a  word  was  spoken  that 
was  unfit  to  be  heard,  nor  a  glance  or 
movement    ventured    that    could    offend. 

Kiteflying.  Kite  flying  was  universal ;  it  seemed  to  be 
the  one  outdoor  amusement  that  every- 
body loved.  Old  and  young  participated 
in  it.  Their  kites  were  mechanical  and 
scientific  wonders.  They  were  ingeniously 
constructed,  and  rose  as  naturally  and 
gracefully  as  birds.  Some  of  the  designs 
were  very  beautiful  and  suggestive.  For 
hours  and  hours  together  all  ages  amused 
themselves  with  all  manner  of  aerial  contri- 
vances. Spelling-contests  had  long  been 
kept  up,  and  the  people  never  wearied  of 
attending  them.  A  high  premium  was  put 
upon  perfect  spelling.  It  was  felt  to  be  a 
shame  not  to  be  able  to  spell  any  word  in 
common  use  amongst  intelligent  people. 
Rewards  were  paid  to  perfect  spellers,  and 
distinction     was     conferred     upon     them. 

Reading.  Reading,  also,  was  a  public  exercise,  and 
was  of  great  service  in  general  education. 
As  so  great  a  part  of  their  pleasure  and  in- 
struction came  through  reading,  the  great- 
est effort  was  made  to  improve  themselves 


The  True  Standard  231 

in  it.  In  the  book  of  Nehemiah  they 
found  the  true  standard  of  reading  aloud 
—  how  Ezra,  the  learned  and  pious  priest, 
and  the  Levites,  read  to  the  people  the 
law  of  Moses  :  they  read  in  the  book,  in 
the  law  of  God,  distinctly,  and  gave  the 
sense,  and  caused  the  people  to  understand 
the  reading.  The  rule  of  Ezra  and  the  The  rule  oj 
priests  was  the  rule  adopted  throughout 
the  Commonwealth,  which,  by  its  very 
nature,  discouraged  anything  like  elocu- 
tion. It  produced  a  multitude  of  good  oral 
readers,  who  penetrated  the  words  of  the 
printed  page,  perceived  their  sense,  and 
participated  their  feeling,  and  were  able, 
unconsciously,  to  interpret,  reveal,  and  en- 
kindle them  in  the  reading.  Chemical  ex- 
periments were  constantly  made  for  the 
edification  and  amusement  of  the  people. 
They  were  taught  the  chemical  elements,  Tkechemi- 

......  rr  .  01     cal  elements 

and  all  their  known  offices  in  nature.  Such 
practical  instruction  helped  them  in  out- 
door observation,  which,  at  last,  was  their 
best  resource  and  entertainment.  Some 
pains  have  already  been  taken  to  show  the 
reader  how  the  population  were  interested 
in  everything  that  existed  —  from  creature 
to  man,  from  atom  to  sun,  from  sun  to 
universe.      Their    habits    of    observation 


2J2 


Sub-Ccelttm 


With  God 
in  His 
•works. 


made  their  minds  acute,  and  their  close 
sympathy  with  nature  exalted  their  souls. 
To  repeat,  they  were  with  God  in  His 
works.  Each  season  produced  its  won- 
ders. To  see  a  noble  forest,  they  said, 
wreathed  in  icy  gems,  was  one  of  the 
transcendent  glories  of  creation.  You 
looked  through  long  arcades  of  iridescent 
light,  and  the  vision  had  an  awful  majesty, 
compared  with  which  the  most  brilliant 
cathedral  windows  paled  their  ineffectual 
fires.     It  was  the  crystal  palace  of  Jehovah. 


drawing,        In  the  province  of  Kadoe  is  the  great 
and  sculp-  temple  of  Boro-bodo,  described  by  travel- 

TURE.  #  .  . 

ers  in  the  tropics.  It  is  built  upon  a 
small  hill,  and  consists  of  a  central  dome 
and  seven  ranges  of  terraced  walls  cover- 
ing the  slope  of  the  hill  and  forming  open 
galleries  each  below  the  other,  and  com- 
municating by  steps  and  gateways.  The 
central  dome  is  fifty  feet  in  diameter; 
around  it  is  a  triple  circle  of  seventy-two 
towers,  and  the  whole  building  is  six  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet  square,  and  about  one 
hundred  feet  high.  In  the  terrace  walls 
are  niches  containing  cross-legged  figures, 
larger  than  life,  to  the  number  of  about 
four   hundred,   and   both  sides  of   all  the 


Sculptured  Hill-Temple  233 

terrace  walls  are  covered  with  bas-re- 
liefs crowded  with  figures,  and  carved  in 
hard  stone ;  and  which  must,  altogether, 
occupy  an  extent  of  nearly  three  miles  ! 
The  amount  of  human  labor  and  skill  ex- 
pended on  the  Great  Pyramid  sinks  into 
insignificance  when  compared  with  that  re- 
quired to  complete  this  sculptured  hill- 
temple  in  the  interior  of  a  tropical  island. 
A  philosopher  told  a  story  of  one  of  the  phiioso- 
lords  of  session  in  his  country,  a  strange, 
rough,  gruff  judge,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  sketches  of  people  in  court  with  a 
pen  and  ink.  One  day  he  asked  the  usher, 
Who 's  that  man  yonder  ?  That 's  the  plain- 
tiff, my  lord,  was  the  answer.  Oh,  he  's 
the  plaintiff,  is  he  ?  he 's  a  queer-look- 
ing fellow  ;  the  Court  will  decide  against 
him  and  see  how  he  '11  look !  History  goes 
not  back  to  the  time  when  art  in  many  of 
its  diversified  forms  was  not  practiced. 
In  Sub-Ccelum  the  taste  for  it  was  univer-  The  artistic 

,  .  .      .       .  ,     taste  univer- 

sal,  and  great  progress  was  made  in  its  cul-  sai. 
tivation.  The  artist's  eye  and  habit  had 
been  quickened  and  strengthened  by  the 
generous  system  of  instruction.  The  prin- 
ciples and  practice  of  drawing  were  carried 
into  all  their  schools  and  intelligently 
taught.     Perhaps  one  pupil  in  fifty  discov- 


234 


Sub-Coelum 


Searching 
observatio?i 
of  faces. 


Private 

character 

sacred. 


ered  ability,  and  was  encouraged  ;  if  one 
in  ten  thousand  showed  genius,  there  was 
hope ;  but  the  multitude  was  benefited. 
Taste  was  cultivated  if  nothing  more. 
Adepts  in  drawing  were  not  uncommon. 
The  little  books  in  side-pockets  contained 
many  admirable  sketches.  They  revealed 
the  searching  observation  of  faces  that  the 
judge  in  the  story  exhibited.  Thumb-nails 
were  shaped  to  use  in  sketching.  A  very 
small  card  in  the  artist's  hand  would  re- 
ceive and  retain  necessary  outlines.  In 
public  places  there  were  conveniences  for 
posting  anonymous  and  other  original 
drawings.  Very  acute  many  of  them 
were,  and  taught  as  the  most  logical  dis- 
courses could  not.  A  little  picture  would 
illumine  a  public  question.  Caricature 
was  of  course  indulged,  but  not  danger- 
ously nor  licentiously.  Private  character, 
unless  connected  with  the  public  in  a  way 
to  occasion  mischief,  was  sacred  to  it. 
Women  also,  whatever  the  folly  to  be  ex- 
posed, were  never  subjects  of  ridicule  or 
open  attack.  There  were  limits  that  the 
public  had  severely  prescribed,  and  they 
were  rarely  transcended.  The  artist  who 
misused  his  pencil  or  brush  became  odious. 
He  was  not  tolerated.     If  incorrigible   he 


Human  Nature  Exalted  235 

was  locked  up.  The  public  taste  ran  to 
the  virtues,  and  delighted  to  see  them  rep- 
resented. Infinitely  were  they  exhibited, 
in  pencil  and  in  color.  Human  nature 
was  constantly  being  exalted  by  these  rep- 
resentations. Sculpture,  especially,  era-tfwo/ 
ployed  itself  in  embodying  the  highest  J5J3"""* 
qualities  and  achievements  of  manhood 
and  womanhood.  Martyrs  to  reason,  to 
humanity,  and  to  personal  freedom,  were 
the  favorite  subjects  of  superior  genius. 
Heads  and  figures  of  Socrates,  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  of  John  Brown,  were  to  be  seen 
in  public  places.  The  brow  of  the  first 
appeared  the  home  of  intellect  ;  the  face  of 
the  second  shone  with  a  supernatural  light ; 
the  front  of  the  third  was  rugged,  like  the 
brow  of  Hercules.  These  representations, 
idealizations,  realizations,  were  instructive  instructive 
and  elevating  according  to  the  mood  or  ex-  ting. 
tremity  of  the  beholder.  An  intellect  in 
shadow,  ill-recognized  and  unrequited  for 
the  time  being,  gained  courage  in  contem- 
plating a  head  of  the  brave  philosopher  ;  a 
poor  fellow,  feeling  himself  oppressed,  re- 
covered hope  as  he  paused  before  an  ideal 
representation  of  his  hero  ;  a  woman,  in 
anguish,  uncovered  before  a  figure  of  the 
immaculate    Saviour,   and  cast  an  upward 


2}6 


Sub-Carl  urn 


Blessed  be 
art. 


look  of  adoration  that  no  eye  witnessed 
without  sympathy.  Blessed  be  art,  they 
said  in  their  hearts,  that  lifts  us  up  when 
we  are  cast  down  ;  that  puts  a  hope  into 
discouraged  souls ;  that  exalts  wretched- 
ness to  a  place  in  the  bosom  of  Deity. 
There  was  not  any  person  or  place  that 
did  not  feel  the  pervading  influence. 
Homes  were  adorned  by  it,  and  flooded 
with  a  healthy  moral  atmosphere.  Not 
one  but  had  ideals  of  virtue  that  were  per- 
petually teaching.  Shame  covered  the 
face  of  wrong  in  their  pure  presence. 
sculptural  Sculptural  manipulation  of  clay  was  one 
of  the  common  amusements.  The  expert 
would  take  in  his  hand  a  portion  of 
kneaded  earth,  and  exhibit  the  passions  and 
emotions  one  after  another,  as  they  were 
asked  for.  Grief  would  drop  a  tear  over 
the  thumb-nail,  and  Santorini's  laughing- 
muscle  show  itself  in  the  face.  Horrible 
were  some  of  the  faces  made,  and  lovely 
were  others  as  genius  could  make  them. 
Draughtsmen,  in  goodly  number,  were 
alike  capable  in  their  department.  On 
the  blackboard,  or  other  suitable  drawing 
surface,  they  gave  to  observers  whatever 
expression  or  outline  they  requested.  An- 
imals were  drawn  with  human-like   faces, 


manipula- 
tion. 


Capable 
draughts- 
men. 


Quality  Preferred  237 

and  men  with  the  faces  of  animals.  Wings 
were  transferred  from  birds  to  reptiles. 
There  was  no  limit  put  upon  these  diver- 
sions except  by  time.  Audiences  broke 
up  with  abated  respiration. 

Books    they   had    in    abundance  —  tooNoTAMBi- 
great    abundance,     they    constantly    felt,  great  l*. 
With  all  their  weeding,  the  number  was 
not  lessened.     They   were  not   ambitious 
of 'great  libraries,  quality  being  preferred 
to  quantity.     Their  aim  was  to   preserve 
only  the  best.     They  realized  that  minds, 
like  some  seed-plants,  delight  in  sporting  ; 
there  is  great  variety  in  thinking,  but  the 
few  great  ideas  remain  the  same.    They  are  The  few 
constantly  reappearing  in  all  ages  and  in  all 
literatures,  modified  by  new  circumstances 
and  new  uses  ;  though  in  new  dresses,  they 
are  still  the  old  originals     Like  the  virtues, 
they   have  great  and   endless  services   to 
perform  in  this  world.     Now  they  appear 
in  philosophy,  now  in  fiction  ;  the  moralist 
uses   them,    and    the    buffoon  ;    dissociate 
them,    analyze  them,  strip  them  of  their 
innumerable  dresses,  and  they  are  recog- 
nized and    identified  —  the  same  from  the  The  same 
foundation  and  forever.     If   a  discrimina-  foundation. 
ting  general  reader  for  forty  years  had  noted 


238 


Sub-Caium 


Thinkers 
more  numer- 
ous tlian 
thoughts. 


Simplicity 
the  last  at- 
tainment. 


their  continual  reappearance  in  the  tons  of 
books  he  had  perused  upon  all  subjects,  he 
would  be  astonished  at  their  varied  and 
multiplied  uses.  Thinkers  he  would  per- 
haps find  more  numerous  than  thoughts ; 
yet  of  the  former  how  few.  The  original 
thought  of  one  age  diffuses  itself  through 
the  next,  and  expires  in  commonplace  — 
to  be  born  again  when  occasion  necessi- 
tates and  God  wills.  At  each  birth  it  is 
a  new  creation  —  to  the  brain  it  springs 
from  and  to  the  creatures  it  is  to  enlighten 
and  serve.  If  the  writer  or  speaker  could 
know  how  often  it  has  done  even  hack-ser- 
vice in  the  ages  before  him,  he  would  repen- 
tantly blot  it  out,  or  choke  in  its  utterance. 
In  the  unpleasant  discovery,  that  indispen- 
sable and  inspiring  quality,  self-conceit, 
would  suffer  a  wound  beyond  healing.  In 
literature,  as  a  rule,  the  oldest  books  were 
preferred  ;  in  science  the  newest.  The 
classic,  they  said,  was  always  modern.  Sim- 
plicity they  considered,  with  the  critic,  the 
last  attainment  of  progressive  literature  :  as 
men  are  very  long  afraid  of  being  natural, 
from  the  dread  of  being  taken  for  ordinary. 
They  accepted  the  definition  of  literature  to 
be  the  written  thoughts  and  feelings  of  in- 
telligent men  and  women  arranged  in  a  way 


Perspicuity  Essential  2jg 

to  give  pleasure  to  the  reader.  Pleasure 
could  not  be  had  where  there  was  affectation, 
and  where  meaning  had  to  be  groped  for. 
Perspicuity  was  an  essentiality.  The  mis- 
erable habit  of  some  biographers  of  search- 
ing out  the  weaknesses  of  authors  with  their 
audacious  dark-lanterns,  was  not  in  favor  in 
Sub-Ccelum.  Men  had  a  right,  they  said, 
to  be  themselves,  if  they  were  authors : 
and  they  were  not  to  be  called  hypocrites 
if  their  thoughts  and  conduct  did  not  al-  noughts 

T,  r  .1   •  ii«  •        and  conduct. 

ways  agree.  It  was  from  this  sublime  in- 
evitable simulation  of  literature,  they  said 
and  repeated,  that  the  world  gets  its  lay 
working  ideal  perpetually  renewed.  As 
yet,  a  human  creature  can  only  sometimes 
be  quite  good  in  the  still  act  of  writing. 
By  a  happy  error  those  who  do  not  write 
mix  up  the  man  and  the  author,  where  the 
difference  is  not  forced  on  them,  and  think- 
ing there  are  beings  so  much  better  than 
the  common,  they  try  fitfully  to  live  after 
the  style  of  books.  If  the  illusion  should 
be  destroyed,  and  it  ever  came  to  be  univer- 
sally known  that  literature   is  intentional  Literature 

.  .  .  .  -      .  ,   .     ,       .  intentional 

only,  that  the  writers  of  these  high  }\\dg- only. 
ments,  exact  reflections,  beautiful  flights  of 
sentiment,  are  in  act  simply  as  other  men, 
how  is  the  great  bulk  to  be  stung  into  try- 


240  Sub-Caiitm 

Metaphysics,  ing  after  progress  ?  Metaphysics,  having 
long  ceased  to  be  considered  a  science, 
books  on  the  general  subject  were  scarce  ; 
they  had  mouldered  away,  or  been  con- 
signed  to  the   paper-makers.     The   same 

Political  judgment  of  political  economy  had  reduced 
u""y'  the  books  upon  that  subject  to  a  few.  The 
political  economist,  they  said,  looked  upon 
men  too  much  as  machines,  and  his  system, 
they  thought,  contained  too  many  conflict- 
ing calculations  and  theories  to  be  useful. 
Masterpieces  of  authors  were  scrupulously 
treasured ;  indeed  it  was  their  rule,  with 
voluminous  writers,  to  preserve  only  their 
greatest  achievements.  Those  books  that 
the  ages  had  passed  upon  were  accepted  as 
indubitably   worthy.     They   believed  with 

No  luck  in    one  of  the  greatest  that  there  was  no  luck 

laation.  in  literary  reputation.  They  who  make  up 
the  final  verdict  upon  every  book  are  not 
the  partial  and  noisy  readers  of  the  hour 
when  it  appears  ;  but  a  court  as  of  angels, 
a  public  not  to  be  bribed,  not  to  be  en- 
treated, and  not  to  be  overawed,  decides 
upon  every  man's  title  to  fame.  Only 
those  books  come  down  which  deserve  to 
last. 

the  press.      The  tone  of  the  press  was  such  as  might 


The  Antidote  241 

be  expected  from  the  character  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  people.  It  was  moderate,  but 
wholly  and  habitually  free.  As  well  said, 
a  press  is  mischievous  only  where  it  is  par- 
tially and  irregularly  so.  Just  as  a  draught 
gives  you  a  cold,  while  even  a  storm  in  the 
open  air  is  innocuous.  If  the  press  were 
free  for  a  fortnight  only  in  every  year 
there  would  be  an  annual  revolution.  Its  its  duty. 
duty,  as  denned  by  a  distinguished  mem- 
ber, was  to  make  war  upon  Privilege  —  to 
see  that  a  ruling  class  was  not  formed  in 
the  State,  to  reduce  the  functions  of  offi- 
cials, to  eliminate  from  the  popular  appre- 
hension the  illusions  of  political  supersti- 
tions. It  adopted  as  a  maxim,  The  less 
government  the  better ;  the  fewer  laws 
and  the  less  confided  power.  The  antidote 
to  the  abuse  of  formal  government,  they 
said,  was  the  influence  of  private  character, 
the  growth  of  the  individual.  Journalism, 
adopting  the  language  of  a  critic,  was  puchedona 
pitched  on  a  low  key,  and  set  about  on  the 
ordinary  tone  of  a  familiar  letter  or  conver- 
sation ;  as  that  from  which  there  was  little 
hazard  of  falling,  even  in  moments  of  neg- 
ligence, and  from  which  any  rise  that 
could  be  effected  must  always  be  easy  and 
conspicuous.     A   man    fully  possessed   of 


242  Suh-Ccelum 

his  subject,  and  confident  of  his  cause, 
may  almost  always  write  with  vigor  and 
effect,  if  he  can  get  over  the  temptation  of 
writing  finely,  and  really  confine  himself 
to  the  strong  and  clear  exposition  of  the 
Accuracy     matter  he  has  to  bring  forward.     Accuracy 

and  definite-  ,  -       ,  . 

ness.  and  definiteness  were  01  the  first  impor- 

tance in  their  journalism.  Violence  was 
suspected  —  even  strong  language  —  ex- 
cept in  rarest  cases.  Italics  were  not 
used,  as  every  word  was  expected  to  itali- 
cize itself.  Intelligence  was  discriminated 
and  severely  sifted.  News  was  not  any- 
thing that  might  be  invented,  embellished, 
or  perverted.  It  was  the  rule  to  publish 
only  what  was  literally  true.  News  gath- 
erers were  instructed  to  be  direct  and  con- 
cise. A  column  about  a  trifle  was  not  ac- 
ceptable. Ability  in  condensation  was 
preferred  before  facility  or  felicity.  While 
personal  items  were  sought  and  desired, 
great  care  was  taken  to  print  only  such  as 
were  respectful  and  creditable.      Journal- 

Mottoand    ism  generally  had  adopted  as  a  motto  and 

rule  of  con-  .  . 

duct.  rule  of  conduct  a  sentence  from  a  famous 

writer :  Private  vices,  however  detestable, 
have  not  dignity  sufficient  to  attract  the 
censure  of  the  press,  unless  they  are  united 
with  the  power  of  doing  some  signal  mis- 


Chronicle  of  Perdition  243 

chief  to  the  community.  Objectionable 
matter,  from  its  nature,  found  a  place  in 
The  Chronicle  of  Perdition,  a  journal  that, 
in  spite  of  public  opinion,  found  a  suffi- 
ciency of  readers  to  support  it.  Alas ! 
there  were  people,  even  in  Sub-Ccelum, 
with  prurient  tastes  and  appetites,  who  de-  Prurient 

,.,,.  .....  .  ..     tastes  and 

lighted  in  recitals  of  evil  and  gross  crimi-  appetites. 
nality.  A  journal  of  general  circulation 
was  called  Information  for  the  People.  It 
was  crowded  with  condensed  facts  upon  all 
sorts  of  subjects,  and  formed  a  literature  of 
its  own.  It  was  intelligently  indexed,  and 
had  grown  into  many  large  volumes.  It 
was  a  mine  of  information,  that  was  con- 
stantly consulted  by  all  classes.  But  the 
most  popular  of  all  their  journals  bore  the 
significant  title  of  Confidential  Letters  to 
the  Public.  Each  number  of  it  contained 
a  hundred  or  more  free  communications, 
from  as  many  persons  and  places,  upon  a 
great  variety  of  subjects.  It  was  some- 
times called  The  National  Barometer.  It  The  Nation- 
indicated  the  matters  upon  which  the  pop-  ur. 
ulation  were  generally  thinking,  and  es- 
pecially those  about  which  they  were  most 
uneasy.  Questions  were  discussed,  but 
not  in  an  elaborate  manner.  Space  was 
too    valuable    to    permit    the    inundating 


244 


Sab-Ccchim 


aries  con- 
sulted it. 


It  gauged 
apprehen- 
sion and 
anxiety. 


method  to  any.  Grievances  of  all  sorts 
were  acutely  and  forcibly  presented. 
Functionaries,  especially,  consulted  the 
suggestive  journal  for  cues,  and  assembly- 
men referred  to  it  as  authority.  No  wor- 
thy subject,  of  social  or  political  interest, 
escaped  investigation  in  Confidental  Let- 
ters. Communications  were  anonymous, 
but  the  names  of  authors  were  registered, 
and  produced,  if  in  extremity  they  were 
called  for.  It  was  not  possible  for  any  in- 
telligent citizen  to  avoid  being  interested 
in  its  contents.  It  determined  for  him  the 
average  judgment  upon  current  topics ;  it 
put  his  finger  upon  the  public  pulse  ;  it 
gauged  apprehension  and  anxiety  with  ap- 
proximate accuracy.  Nothing  unhealth- 
fully  stimulating,  as  a  rule,  was  found  in 
their  newspapers.  Sensation  was  not  in 
favor;  truth  and  decency  were  elevated 
above  everything.  They  were  not  ambi- 
tious of  the  picturesque  or  startling  in 
their  annals ;  on  the  contrary,  they  pre- 
ferred the  commonplace  and  tiresome,  as 
more  significant  of  contentment  and  pros- 
perity. 


Results  of 
Evolution. 


In  the  evolutionary  processes  of  this  pe- 
culiar civilization  some  unexpected  changes 


Changed  Places  245 

had  resulted.  The  dogs  did  not  bark 
noisily,  as  had  been  their  wont  ;  the  moon, 
even,  did  not  disturb  them.  They  contem- 
plated Luna,  but  without  demonstration. 
The  cats,  likewise,  were  considerate  of  the 
peace  of  neighborhoods.  Men,  many  o£  jf"Js%°'"e 
them,  changed  places  with  women,  and 
became  essentially  domestic.  Household 
duties,  in  a  great  degree,  had  passed  into 
their  hands.  They  discovered  a  fondness 
for  them,  as  to  the  other  sex  they  became 
distasteful.  In  well-to-do  households  every 
department  but  the  nursery  was  surren- 
dered to  them.  They  were  strong,  and 
could  lift,  and  climb,  and  stoop,  without 
difficulty  or  detriment.      The  kitchen,  es-  The  kitchen 

,  their  do- 

pecially,  was  their  domain.  Cooking,  as  »™ 
before  observed,  was  a  very  high  art  in 
Sub-Ccelum.  Learning  had  been  devoted 
to  its  development.  Chemistry,  particu- 
larly, had  been  ransacked,  and  its  mysteries 
applied  extensively.  Kitchens  were  lab- 
oratories and  museums.  Contrivances  for 
everything  had  been  invented  and  appro- 
priated.    Cook   books  had   grown   to   the  cookbooks 

L  •  a  1        cyclopedias. 

proportions  of  cyclopaedias.  As  the 
word  servant  was  obsolete,  and  never  used 
throughout  the  Commonwealth,  the  pro- 
fession of  cook  was  as  respectable  as  any 


246  Sitb-Ccehim 

other ;  indeed,  a  master  in  the  kitchen 
ranked  with  scholars  and  scientists.  To 
his  genius  they  attributed  much  that  was 
best  in  their  life  and  achievements.  In 
their  profound  study  of  body  and  mind  — 
of  their  dependence  and  interdependence 
—  how  astonishingly  morals  depended 
Necessity  of  upon     stomach  —  the     necessity   of   good 

good  cook-  #  jo 

i»s-  cooking  was  appreciated,  and  the  art  ele- 

vated. Soups  were  in  such  variety  that 
every  want  of  appetite  and  emotion  was 
provided  for.  A  dinner  for  the  gymnast 
and  a  dinner  for  the  poet  were  as  different 
as  any  two  things  of  a  kind  could  be.  The 
resources  and  gamut  of  the  emotions  had 
been  studied  as  profoundly  as  the  possibil- 
ities and  power  of  the  muscles.  Training 
for  anything  remarkable  was  largely 
through  the  wisdom  and  manipulations  of 
Eating de-  the  kitchen.  Eating  was  determined  by 
occupation,  occupation.  The  orator  prepared  himself 
for  highest  flights  by  days  of  discriminate 
living.  The  clergyman,  to  impress  his 
hearers,  was  conscientious  about  his  break- 
fasts. It  was  not  thought  possible  for  a 
judge  to  be  considerately  just  without  judi- 
cious and  temperate  diet.  The  actor,  es- 
pecially, was  indebted  to  the  cook  for  his 
reputation.      The     green-room     and     the 


Enjoyment  Inevitable  247 

kitchen  were  inseparable  to  him.  Dinners 
in  well-ordered  households  were  inspira- 
tions, the  cook  having  eaten  appropriately 
to  achieve  them.  The  dishes  were  so 
wisely  various,  so  divinely  cooked,  and  so 
perfectly  served,  that  enjoyment  from  them 
was  inevitable.     Conversation  was  in  keep-  converm- 

.  1  1  1      -i     ,  1  t'on  i*1  keep- 

ing,  and  men  and  women  regarded  them-  ing. 
selves  as  worthy  of  the  perpetuation  they 
hoped  for.  The  cook  commanded  better 
wages  than  the  senator.  Anybody,  after  a 
fashion,  might  perform  the  functions  of  the 
latter ;  the  skill  of  the  former  was  excep- 
tional and  essential.  The  perfect  cook 
was  a  desideratum  in  that  high  civiliza- 
tion. At  banquets,  the  chef  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  entertainment  and  received 
his  just  homage.  Pledges  were  drank,  and 
wine  poured  out  in  honor.  Guests  rose, 
and  bowed  low,  as  their  genius  and  bene- 
factor passed  out.  Grades  there  were,  of 
course,  in  the  profession  —  in  ability  and 
dignity  ;  but  there  was  pride  in  it  through-  Pride  of 

-,  ,  r     •  t      i  profession. 

out,  and  every  member  of  it  studied  to 
attain  the  utmost  excellence.  Households 
were  happier  with  male  cooks ;  the  wo- 
men preferred  them,  and  treated  them  as 
gentlemen.  Servant  or  scullion  was  not 
thought  of  in  the  pleasant  relation. 


248 


Sub-Ccelum 


The  High 
Estimate 

1>UT  UPON 

Woman. 


Emancipa- 
ted from 
menial  du- 
ties. 


Made  the 
best  physi- 
cians. 


The  high  estimate  put  upon  woman  was 
evidence  of  incomparable  advancement. 
Feminineness,  whether  in  virginity  or  ma- 
ternity, was  exalted.  No  man  forgot  to 
pay  reverence  to  the  sex  of  his  mother, 
his  wife,  or  his  sweetheart.  Adoration  of 
the  Virgin  Mother  was  its  apotheosis. 
Oh  !  exclaimed  the  humanist,  if  the  loving, 
closed  heart  of  a  good  woman  should  open 
before  a  man,  how  much  controlled  tender- 
ness, how  many  veiled  sacrifices  and  dumb 
virtues  would  he  see  reposing  therein. 
As  far  as  possible  woman  was  emancipated 
from  menial  duties.  The  offices  of  mo- 
therhood, especially,  were  not  infringed  by 
avoidable  domestic  drudgery.  She  was 
left  free  to  devote  herself  to  the  care  and 
development  of  her  children,  and  to  the 
enjoyment  of  such  society  as  would  supply 
the  want  occasioned  by  continually  de- 
scending and  imparting.  All  suitable  oc- 
cupations were  thrown  open  to  women, 
and  some  of  them  they  monopolized.  It 
was  found  that  they  made  the  best  physi- 
cians—  especially  for  children  and  women. 
Their  delicacy  and  courage  made  them 
superior  surgeons.  Their  fingers  manipu- 
lated in  a  manner  impossible  to  men's. 
In   cases  of  confinement    they  were  pre- 


Remarkable  Intuitions  24Q 

ferred,  without  exception.  Women  in  that 
crisis  reasoned,  as  reported,  and  were  lis- 
tened to  deferentially.  They  said  frankly, 
if  pressed  in  so  delicate  a  matter,  that  all  a  delicate 
their  strength,  in  the  act  of  violent  exer-  "" 
tion,  consisted  in  the  liberty  of  the  exer- 
tion, and  that  this  liberty  was  as  nothing 
if  a  man  was  in  the  room.  From  this 
cause,  at  every  moment,  hesitation  re- 
sulted, and  contradictory  movements. 
They  exerted  and  they  restrained  them- 
selves. You  will  say,  says  the  wise  re- 
porter, that  they  are  in  the  wrong,  that 
they  should  be  at  ease,  should,  in  such  a 
crisis,  forget  their  superstitions  of  shame 
and  fear,  the  little  annoyances  which  so 
humiliate  them.  But,  however  this  may 
be,  such  they  are ;  as  such  they  must  be 
treated.  And  he  who,  to  save  them,  will 
put  them  in  such  peril,  is  certainly  unwise. 
Male  physicians,  therefore,  in  such  cases, 
were  seldom  or  never  called.  In  deter- 
mining the  causes  of  disease,  the  medical 
knowledge  of  women  was  supplemented  by 
their  remarkable  intuitions  —  a  very  high  a  high 
order  of  wisdom.  As  such  they  were  rec-  dom.  u 
ognized  and  employed  in  many  important 
offices.  As  moral  police  they  kept  guard 
over   society.       The    invisible    was    duly 


or- 


250  Siib-Coelum 

rated  —  nothing  escaped  their  unerring 
ken.  Mysterious  and  inexplicable,  they 
were  nevertheless  authority.  Judges  con- 
sulted them  in  difficult  cases.  Testimony, 
contradictory  and  involved,  was  analyzed 
and  made  perspicuous.  Motives  were  re- 
vealed marvelously.  The  oblique  was 
whenin/ai-  direct   to   them.      These   intuitions   were 

lible. 

particularly  infallible  when  the  conduct  of 
females  was  in  question  ;  for  women  knew 
women  in  Sub-Ccelum.  Their  knowledge 
and  instincts,  so  applied,  appeared  omnis- 
cient. Indications  unseen  and  unknown 
to  men  were  apparent  and  unmistakable  to 
women.  Signs  of  concealment  were  as 
conspicuous  as  those  of  unquestioned 
frankness.  Good  women  were  known  and 
read  by  all ;  happily  there  were  few  in 
Sub-Ccelum  that  were  not  good.  Their 
superior  nature  was  acknowledged  and  ap- 
preciated by  all  men.  It  enlightened  so- 
ciety and  elevated  it.  Better  standards  of 
conduct  were  set  up.  Encouragement  was 
Pure  and  given  to  well-directed  effort.  Pure  and 
womanhood,  enlightened  womanhood  was  the  ripe  fruit 
and  governing  influence  of  civilization.  It 
pitched  thought  and  enthusiasm.  It 
adorned  whatever  it  touched.  It  stimu- 
lated  charity.     It   led   in    religion.      The 


Its  Typical  Aureola  251 

beauty  of  all  things  was  heightened  by  it. 
It  was  the  medium  in  which  all  men  lived, 
moved,  hoped,  and  worshiped.  The  flow- 
ers grew  better  in  its  atmosphere ;  the 
birds  sang  sweeter  ;  fruits  were  more  de- 
liriously flavored  ;  supernatural  rainbows, 
such  as  they  had,  were  its  typical  aureola. 

Her  brow 
A  wreath  reflecting  of  eternal  beams. 

Government  was   largely  supported   by  How  gov- 

,  ,    ERNMENT 

taxes  upon  incomes  and  upon  heads,  and  was  sup- 

r  PORTED. 

by  a  generous  system  of  licenses  and  an- 
nuities. Rich  people,  being  able,  were 
also  willing  to  bear  the  greater  part  of  the 
public  burdens.  It  was  a  privilege  they 
esteemed  and  were  proud  of.  Estates  did 
not  grow  enormously.  Great  possessions 
were  not  thought  good  for  the  possessors 
or  for  the  public.  They  were  apt  to  create 
distinctions  not  in  agreement  with  the  gen- 
eral system  of  society  and  government. 
The  utmost  practicable  equality  was  the 
universal  aim.  Money  was  especially  ap-  whatmoney 
preciated  for  the  leisure  it  gave  to  do  what  cuutj&n- 

r  .  dated  for. 

was  preferable  to  making  it.  As  repeat- 
edly said  before,  the  ambition  of  every  one 
was  to  make  the  most  of  himself  —  to 
gather  resources  and  treasures  that  would 


2$2 


Sub-Ccehim 


Money  no- 
thing in  it- 
self. 


At  heart 

guilty  of  in- 
civ  ism. 


not  fade  —  that  would  make  him  a  man  in 
whatever  condition  or  state  he  might  be 
placed.  Believing  that  this  life  was  only 
preparatory  to  a  better,  every  effort  was 
made  to  develop  themselves  worthily,  and 
everything  not  necessary  to  that  was  an 
incumbrance.  It  was  the  rarest  thing  that 
any  one  thought  money  anything  in  it- 
self. The  small  tax  placed  upon  every  head 
produced  a  large  aggregate,  and  it  was 
cheerfully  paid.  It  stimulated  patriotism. 
Every  one  had  a  money  interest  in  his 
Government,  and  was  a  supporter  of  it. 
When  he  walked  out  on  one  of  the  beauti- 
ful roads,  it  was  his  as  much  as  anybody's. 
When  he  plucked  fruit  from  the  endless 
orchards,  it  was  from  his  own  trees,  that 
his  own  money  had  assisted  to  plant.  The 
vast  and  perfect  system  of  schools,  by 
which  his  children  were  educated,  was  not 
a  charity  in  his  eyes,  as  he  and  every  other 
inhabitant  had  helped  to  establish  and  sup- 
port it.  The  citizen  who  would  withhold 
his  pittance  was  at  heart  guilty  of  incivism. 
Privileges,  in  the  form  of  licenses,  were 
liberally  and  cheerfully  paid  for.  Special 
rights  included  special  immunities  that 
were  inviolable.  They  were  worth  more 
than  they  cost,  and  were  estimated  accord- 


System  of  Annuities  25} 

ingly.  They  included  also  honor  and  re- 
sponsibility. If  an  individual  exceeded  his 
purchased  privilege,  he  was  guilty  of  a 
breach  of  trust,  and  was  severely  punished. 
Betrayal  was  one  of  the  high  moral  and 
penal  offenses.  The  system  of  annuities, 
as  before  said,  was  considerately  provident 
and  generous  to  the  people,  and  was  a  great 
convenience.  For  a  sum  of  money  given 
to  the  Government,  the  giver  received 
quarterly  a  liberal  per  centum  during  his  a  liberal 

, .  r       .  .  c  1  per  centum 

lifetime  —  the  amount,  of  course,  being  during hu 
determined  by  the  longevity  tables.  To 
scholars  and  to  old  people  it  was  a  great 
accommodation.  Their  savings  were 
turned  over  to  the  Commonwealth,  and  they 
were  supported  from  them  without  risk  or 
anxiety.  Scholarship  was  free  to  pursue 
its  investigations,  and  old  age  reposed  in 
the  security  of  independence.  In  such 
cases  death  was  not  made  interesting  by 
possible  inheritance.  Indeed,  it  was  not 
thought  good  that  property  should  descend. 
Every  man,  according  to  their  theory,  was  Everyman 
an  accretion,  an  incarnation;  was  just'"™- 
what  he  was  naturally,  and  what  he  had 
gathered  and  assimilated.  His  personality 
represented  his  earnings  as  well  as  his  at- 
tainments.    No  genuine  man  wanted  what 


an  incarua- 


2<j4  Sub-Ccelum 

he  did  not  earn.  It  was  common  for  the 
prosperous  to  place  annuities  upon  the  old 
and  helpless  of  their  kindred,  to  relieve 
them  of  the  humiliation  and  discomfort  of 
Liberality o/  dependence.      Many   rich    people,    before 

rich  people..  m 

their  deaths,  gave  away,  in  this  manner, 
about  all  that  they  had,  to  the  eminently 
needy  and  worthy.  They  perpetuated 
themselves  by  their  good  acts,  leaving 
nothing  to  be  wasted  in  dissipation  and  in- 
dolence. This  well-devised  system  of  an- 
nuities was  not  only  a  pecuniary  resource 
to  the  Government ;  it  strengthened  it  also 
in  the  affections  and  interests  of  the  peo- 
ple. Helpful  essentially,  its  judicious  and 
fostering  protection  was  affectionately  re- 
membered. 

the  ma-  The  machinery  of  politics,  in  the  sense 
politics,  of  office-getting  and  office-holding,  was  not 
strained.  Terms  of  office  were  short,  and 
elections,  of  course,  frequent.  Salaries 
were  small  and  therefore  not  greatly 
desired.  Judges  alone  were  elected  for 
long  periods,  and  were  paid  good  salaries. 
Persons  who  sought  office  persistently 
were  mistrusted ;  desire  for  place  was 
therefore  cautiously  and  modestly  exhib- 
ited.     Those    most   worthy   were   sought 


The  Man  Himself  255 

by  the  public.  Voluntary  preference  was 
gratifying,  but  place-holding  was  not  con- 
sidered especially  honorable.  The  man 
who  was  fit  for  a  place  was  not  more  of  a 
man  by  occupying  it.     Merit  was  in  the  Merit  not  in 

,   .  ,  r  ,  .  .      ,         creased  by 

man  himself,  and  was  not  increased  by  recognition. 
recognition.  The  best  men  did  not  hold 
place  at  all,  except  in  extremity.  Crises 
sometimes  occurred  when  their  services 
were  demanded.  In  such  cases  it  was 
manifest  surrender,  and  not  for  personal  ad- 
vancement or  emolument.  Titles,  though 
permitted,  were  not  encouraged,  and  were 
not  often  bestowed.  They  were  extra- 
neous, and  did  not  belong  to  the  man  ;  the 
intrinsic  was  his  personality.  Society  was 
filled  with  men  who  had  been  governors 
and  the  like,  whose  rank  had  not  been 
increased  by  their  temporary  eminence. 
Occasionally  one  presumed  upon  it,  and 
arrogated  importance  in  consequence  ;  but 
the  average  wisdom  and  common  sense 
soon  relieved  him  of  his  conceit  and  put 
him  back  in  his  place.  The  airs  of  a  pre-  Airs 0/ a 
tended  favorite  were  soon  perceived  and /aw'"- 
corrected.  A  man  might  be  a  favorite,  in- 
deed, until  he  assumed  to  be,  when  he  was 
not.  Public  favoritism  was  fickle  and 
qualified.     Gifts   were   scattered,  but  lim- 


256  Sub-Ccehim 

ited  to  the  public  weal.  The  privileges 
secured  to  each  were  not  incompatible 
with  the  rights  of  any.  The  citizen  was 
elevated    by   his   own    worthiness,   rather 

opportunity  than  by  factitious  assistance.  Opportunity 
was  given  to  all,  advantages  to  none. 
Every  man  had  an  equal  chance  to  make 
himself  what  he  would.  It  was  not  pos- 
sible to  organize  men  permanently  into 
parties ;  self-respect  and  personality  for- 
bade. Demagogues  were  sometimes  lis- 
tened to  in  times  of  extremity,  but  were 
soon  overwhelmed.  The  ready  attention 
given  to  ambitious  factionists  beguiles 
them  to  ruin.  If  the  public  ear  can  be 
easily  had,  why  not  its  strong  right  hand, 
with  a  dagger  in  it?  Thousands  may  be 
got  to  subscribe  a  compact  of  defiance  to 
authority,  and  the  leaders  in  the  scheme  of 
treason  may  be  confident  of  its  success. 
The  roll  of  names  may  attain  an  immeas- 
urable length,  and  the  time  for  violence 
arrive.  The  signal  agreed  upon,  and  per- 
fectly understood,  is  given,  when  the  whole 

The  devilish  devilish  plot   appears  a   failure  to  its  in- 

plot  a/ail-  r  rr 

ure.  ventors.     Those  enrolled  to  participate  m 

the  parricidal  crime  expose  and  identify 
their  leaders,  join  in  exultation  at  their 
disgrace  and  ruin,  and  a  purer  patriotism 


Objects  of  Amusement  257 

is  established.  Desperate  disorganizers 
misinterpret  public  impatience.  Their 
own  hearts  corrupted,  and  bent  upon  dis- 
ruption and  revolution,  they  assume  as 
much  perfidy  and  baseness  in  those  who 
listen  to  and  seem  to  sympathize  with 
them.  Popular  discontent  cannot  easily  be  Not  easily 
organized  into  revolt.  An  attempt  to  so  into  revolt. 
organize  it,  while  a  particle  of  patriotism, 
gratitude,  or  hope  remains,  will  only 
quicken  a  remembrance  of  benefits,  and 
warm  the  common  heart  to  a  more  fervid 
attachment.  Once  put  upon  its  guard,  no 
temptation  could  seduce  it.  It  had  been  a 
great  while  since  the  people  of  Sub-Ccelum 
had  been  seriously  disturbed  by  dema- 
gogues. The  few  specimens  they  pos- 
sessed were  generally  harmless,  and  were 
objects  of  public  amusement.  Society  was 
too  intelligent,  upright,  and  individual  to 
be  long  influenced  by  them.  Election  day 
was  not  more  exciting  than  any  other. 
The  utmost  independence  was  secured  to  The  utmost 
the  voter,  and  any  infringement  of  it  was  &*' e 
rigidly  punished.  The  public  conscience 
at  ease,  there  was  little,  if  any,  likelihood 
of  disturbance.  Evils  were  slight,  and 
easily  corrected.  Clamor  was  impossible 
where    the    people    were    contented    and 


ence  se- 
cured. 


258  Sub-Coelum 

happy.  Showy  and  expensive  inaugura- 
tions were  not  in  fashion.  They  were  con- 
vuigarand  sidered  vulgar  and  barbaric.  If  any  dem- 
onstration was  made  it  was  at  the  end  of  a 
term  of  office,  where  the  service  had  been 
worthily  distinguished.  Even  the  chief 
magistrate  quietly  subscribed  his  oath  of 
office,  and  entered  upon  its  duties  without 
flourish,  ostentation,  or  self-gratulation, 
modestly  impressed  with  its  responsibili- 
ties. 

essential        Though  the  people  of  Sub-Ccelum,  as  a 

Excel-  .  ,  ,  , 

lence  of     rule,    were   good,  —  good   as   goodness   is 
ple.  qualified  and  limited  by  human  nature,  — 

they  made  no  pretensions  to  sanctity ; 
though  religious,  they  were  not  professors 
of  religion  ;  though  Christians,  they  did  not 
wear  badges  of  piety.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  way  of  dress,  language,  or  manner  to 
advertise  super-excellence.  Goodness  was 
a  personal  matter  with  each  one,  and  was 
only  to  be  known  by  character  and  con- 
Gemihuness  duct.  Piety  was  in  the  life.  Genuineness 
c£rda"'  was  the  standard.  Consciousness  of  im- 
perfection taught  them  humility.  Acutely 
observing  and  reflective,  they  saw  God  in 
everything,  and  were  reverent  ;  perceiving 
the  universal  dependence,  they  felt  the  re- 


Responsibility  259 

sponsibility  of  existence.  They  truly  be- 
lieved and  realized  that  here  we  begin  to 
be  what  we  are  to  be  ever.  They  con- 
scientiously and  persistently  sought  the  sought  the 
good  and  avoided  the  evil.  They  carefully  Avoided  the 
guarded  themselves  against  whatever  must 
perish  with  the  body,  and  ardently  culti- 
vated all  which  must  survive  it.  Happi- 
ness was  not  sought  in  its  transient  forms. 
Life  was  appreciated  by  its  resultant  uses. 
The  duty  of  the  hour  was  the  duty  of  all 
time.      The  good   inhered.     The    present  Thepresent 

t  •         1  1  •      i         r  i   ^lc  fariod  °f 

was  realized  as  the  period  of  growth  ana  growth  and 
achievement ;  and,  having  something  to  do  went. 
worth  doing,  they  needed  all  the  time  they 
had  to  do  it  well.     The  duties  of  the  day 
faithfully  discharged,  they  did  not   much 
concern     themselves    about    the    morrow. 
The  morrow  was  so  far  provided  for  that 
it  was  anticipated  and  made  easy  if  it  came. 
Refinement    and    intelligence   and    excel- 
lence resulted  from  fidelity  to  duty,  and  a 
happiness  was  established  as  serene  as  it 
was  unconscious.     Living  and  acting,  and 
getting  the  pleasure  and  good  of  life  out  of 
each  day  of  it,  they  enjoyed  a  foretaste  of  Enjoyed  a 
fruition  and  perpetuity.     They  reverenced  fruition  and 
the  life  and  teachings  of  Christ  for  their 
purity  and  humanity  more   than   for   any 


260  Siib-Coelum 

dogmas  of  theology  that  might  appear  to 
be  taught  in  them.  They  did  not  under- 
stand Christianity  to  be  for  the  super-ter- 
restrial, to  whom  sin  is  known  only  by  wis- 
dom. They  understood  it  to  be  for  men, 
needing  it,  and  proved  its  adaptability  by 
accepting  it  —  its  practicableness  by  prac- 
Their  Chris-  ticing  it.     Their  Christianity  was  encour- 

tianity  en-  .  ,  .  .  11. 

couraging.  aging,  in  that  it  did  not  require  absolute 
imitation  of,  but  some  slight  approxima- 
tion to,  the  Founder.  A  religion  that  was 
discouraging  to  hope  was  a  poor  religion 
for  men  ;  and  a  religion  that  required  of 
them  the  impossible  was  such.  For  some 
it  might  be  easy  to  be  good  —  very  good  — 
as  they  understood  goodness  ;  for  others  it 
was  nearly  impossible  to  be  good  at  all  ac- 
cording to  ideal  and  exclusive  standards. 
To  the  former  it  might  seem  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  Christ  should  be  imitated ;  to 
the  latter  it  seemed  to  be  only  possible 
that  He  could  be  approximated.     He  was 

The  Great  the  Great  Exemplar,  the  Divine,  to  be  ap- 
proached, and  only  approached,  as  nearly 
as  possible,  by  the  creature.  Now  and 
then,  it  might  be,  a  man  was  born  into  the 
world  in  whom  were  all  the  virtues  so 
admirably  mixed  that  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  approach  very  near  to  the  Divine 


The  Mighty  Difference  261 

Founder  —  so  near  as  almost  to  touch  the 
hem  of  His  garment ;  the  many,  however, 
were  unable  to  approach  so  near  by  a  very 
great  way ;  while  the  multitudes  were  so 
far  off  that,  instead  of  seeing  the  light  of 
His  countenance,  they  only  saw  the  reflec-  Oniysawtiu 

.  .  1       r    •       i  reflection. 

tion  of  it  as  it  appeared  faintly,  very 
faintly,  in  the  happy  few,  very  few,  alas ! 
who  were  able  to  approach  near  enough  to 
feel  a  little  the  direct  rays  of  the  Divine 
Effulgence.  After  a  poor  creature  had 
done  all  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do, 
it  was  discouraging  to  be  told  that  he  had 
not  done  enough ;  that  after  he  had  done 
all  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do,  he 
should  be  lost.  He  knew  himself  what  he 
could  do  and  what  he  could  not  do  ;  and 
found  himself  unable  to  accept  a  form  of 
faith  which  offered  rewards  for  the  imprac- 
ticable and  impossible  only.  If  the  gate 
of  Paradise  was  to  remain  shut  against 
him,  for  what  he  could  not  help,  it  must 
remain  shut  against  all  mankind,  as  he  was 
not  able  to  see  the  mighty  difference  in 
men  that  their  hopeless  separation  implied  ; 
—  a  separation  inconceivable  to  the  vast  A  separ*- 
majority  of  sincere  believers  in  a  tut  Lire  ceivabu. 
state,  —  believers  in  Christ,  and  heirs  to 
heaven  under  His  testament. 


262 


Sub-Coclum 


Their  Re- 

L1GI0N. 


Humility 
and  amity 

its/ruits. 


They  re- 
posed in  the 
promises. 


Their  religion  —  the  religion  of  the  peo- 
ple —  was  not  a  science  nor  a  profession  ; 
it  was  a  life  ;  dogmatic  theology  was  not  a 
part  of  it.  It  did  not  consist  in  words,  but 
in  spirit.  Its  essence  was  in  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  in  the  New  Command- 
ment. Love  was  its  ruling  principle. 
God  and  humanity  was  their  unwritten 
creed.  It  taught  reverence  of  the  Creator, 
and  charity  for  the  creature.  Humility 
and  amity  were  its  fruits.  They  loved 
God,  and  trusted  Him  ;  there  was  not,  to 
them,  a  single  element  of  terror  in  His  at- 
tributes ;  Indulgent  Parent  was  the  lan- 
guage they  most  used  in  addressing  Him. 
When  they  prayed,  they  used  not  vain 
repetitions ;  their  Father  knowing  what 
things  they  had  need  of  before  they  asked 
Him.  Rarely  other  prayer  than  the 
Lord's  was  made  use  of — the  sum  and 
summary  of  all  adoration  and  supplication. 
They  did  not  disfigure  their  faces  by  as- 
suming sad  countenances  ;  they  did  not 
toss  up  their  eyes  sanctimoniously.  Con- 
fidence in  the  promises  made  them  tran- 
quil and  grateful ;  they  reposed  in  them. 
Sound  morality  was  a  great  part  of  their 
religion.  Moral  honesty  —  integrity  to 
the  core  —  was  its  chief  corner-stone.     At 


Substance  ami  Shadow  26} 

the  foundation  of  the  character  of  every 
genuine  Sub-Ccelumite  there  were  virtues 
and  elements,  cemented  and  established, 
to  make  it  worthily  everlasting.  He  felt  Feithimsei/ 
himself  continually  searched  by  the  eye  of  searched. 
Omniscience,  and  the  observation  and  esti- 
mate of  the  world  were  of  secondary  im- 
portance to  him.  He  distinguished  be- 
tween the  real  substance,  character,  and  its 
shadow,  reputation.  He  was  careful  about 
repeating  the  Lord's  Prayer,  as  he  could 
not  help  regarding  it  as  a  test  of  himself, 
as  well  as  an  act  of  adoration  to  Deity. 
Before  pronouncing  the  words,  Forgive  us 
our  debts,  as  we  also  have  forgiven  our 
debtors,  he  hesitated,  and  inquisition  be- 
gan.    Conscience  donned  the  ermine,  and  conscience 

.  ~      .  _,  .  .  donned  the 

consciousness  testified.  Conceit  of  sane-  ermine. 
tity  was  not  a  natural  result  of  such  self- 
examination.  The  ideal  seemed  further 
from  attainment  with  every  effort ;  but 
effort  was  encouraged  to  become  habitual 
by  increased  sense  of  responsibility.  An 
individual,  not  responsible  to  party  or  sect, 
he  had  a  conscience  toward  God.  Doing 
his  best  to  live  virtuously  and  walk  hum- 
bly, he  confidently  trusted  the  Creator  to  confidently 
take  care  of  the  creature.  With  the  high- 
est standards  of  conduct  practicable  or  at- 


264  Sub-Coelum 

tainable,  he  judged  himself  not  less  se- 
verely than  his  neighbor.  The  Golden 
Momi an.  Rule  he  believed  to  be  particularly  for  self- 
wages.  app]icatjon#  His  moral  anchorages  were 
fixed  and  habitual.  There  were  things 
that  under  no  possible  circumstances 
would  he  do.  His  principles  were  in  such 
constant  use  that  they  had  the  look  of  in- 
stincts. His  morals  were  so  constantly 
applied  that  they  had  the  appearance  of 
habits.  As  was  said,  he  picked  out  the 
marrow  of  religion,  leaving  the  bones  of 
theology  to  the  professors.  Sectarianism 
existed,  but  was  not  emphatic.  Differ- 
ences of  opinion  could  not  be  serious 
where  there  was  only  one  sentiment.  If 
priests  and  preachers  quarreled  to  the 
detriment  of  religion,  they  were  required 
to  get  together  and  understand  one  an- 
other ;  nor  was  authority  often  necessary 
to  separate  them  ;  a  few  hours'  contact 
Extremes    reconciled  them.     Extremes  and  nice  dis- 

and  nice  dis-  r    .    .  1  r 

unctions,  Unctions  in  faith  were  more  and  more  for- 
gotten or  subordinated ;  and  while  a  com- 
mon basis  was  being  discovered,  it  was  felt 
to  be  wise  by  the  sects  to  press  differences 
tenderly.  Religion  was  too  essential,  they 
said,  to  cling  to  any  dogma.  It  looked  to 
better  and  immutable   conditions.     Every 


Everything  Prospective  265 

man  believed  in  immortality ;  and  felt,  as 
had  been  truly  said,  that  he  had  a  right  to 
this  belief ;  that  it  corresponded  with  the 
wants  of  his  nature.  To  him,  the  eternal 
existence  of  his  soul  was  proved  from  his  Proof  of  hh 
idea  of  activity;  that,  if  he  worked  on  in- «<**«■ 
cessantly  till  his  death,  nature  was  bound 
to  give  him  another  form  of  existence, 
when  the  present  one  could  no  longer  sus- 
tain his  spirit.  Everything,  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  great  soul,  is  prospective,  and  man 
is  to  live  hereafter.  That  the  world  was 
for  his  education  was  the  only  solution  of 
the  enigma.  He  inferred  his  destiny  from 
the  preparation.  Whatever  it  is  which  the 
Great  Providence  made  ready  for  him,  it 
must  be  something  large  and  generous, 
and  in  the  great  style  of  his  works.  The 
future  must  be  up  to  the  measure  of  man's 
faculties, — of  memory,  of  hope,  of  imagi- 
nation, of  reason.  In  a  word,  the  life,  the 
character,  the  faith,  the  aspirations  of  the 
Sub-Ccelumite,  all  united  to  make  him  an 
intelligent,  responsible,  religious  optimist. 

Many   of   the   religious     denominations  Sects  and 
had   dwindled    away,    but   those   that   re- 
mained showed  a  considerable  degree  of 
vitality.     Descended  from  parents  to  chil- 


266  Sub-Ccelitm 

dren,  memory  and  association  clung  to 
them  tenaciously.  Chapels  were  every- 
where in  which  sectarian  doctrines  were 
still  taught.  Teachers  were  zealous,  and 
Hardly  a     congregations  were  faithful,  but  hardly  a 

particle  of  ,    .  .  .  t  11  ■ 

bigotry  sur-  particle  of  bigotry  survived.       Intelligence 

vived* 

and  charity  had  made  the  sects  friendly 
one  with  another.  No  attempt  was  made 
by  either  to  turn  the  key  of  heaven 
against  the  rest.  Exclusion  or  monopoly 
was  no  longer  dreamed  of.  A  hint  of  it, 
even,  was  an  offense  to  Christianity. 
Creeds  were  antiquated ;  new  ones  were 
impossible.  People  generally  thought,  and 
thought  differently,  and  could  not  again  be 
got  to  agree  upon  any  set  of  abstract  ideas. 
Godliness  was  a  mystery  they  did  not  at- 
tempt to  comprehend.  It  was  in  the  en- 
deavor to  know  the  unknowable  that  creeds 
had  been  produced  and  sects  organized. 
If  its  teachers,  they  said,  had  continually 
taught  the  practice  of  Christianity,  and  not 
expended  themselves  in  developing  sys- 
tems of  theology,  all  Christendom  would 
long  since  have  been  a  united  army  against 
rhe  gloomy  Satan.  Alas  !  they  exclaimed,  when  the 
'iheohgies.  gloomy  and  awful  theologies  become  cu- 
riosities, how  prodigiously  ingenious  will 
the  intellects  of  their  inventors  appear  ! 


Manner  of  Worship  267 

Also,    in   addition   to   the    churches   or  worship. 
chapels  of  the  different  sects,  in   all   the 
considerable  towns  there  were  commodious 
cathedrals,  in  which  were  sittings  for  all 
the   inhabitants.     These   cathedrals   were 
especially    sacred    to    Religious  Worship, 
which,  to   the   enlightened   and  Christian 
population  of  Sub-Ccelum,  consisted  chiefly 
in   Thanksgiving.      Anthems   were   sung,  Tkanksgiv- 
and  choruses,  of  the  most  exalted  and  ex-    ' 
alting  character.     Great  organs  shook  the 
lofty  edifices  with  their  joyful  and  divine 
harmonies.     When    thousands   of   trained 
voices,  led  by  the  great  organ,  sang, 

Be  Thou,  O  God,  exalted  high  ! 

it  did  seem  the  Deity  was  lifted  up.     In  The  Deity 
these  great  cathedrals,  at  a  fixed  hour,  on 
Sunday,  the  sects  and  the  people   assem- 
bled, and  together,  in  one  voice,  and  with 
one  heart,  worshiped  God. 


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